Stormbraver
by Apollo888
Summary: Back together for six months, Mary and Matthew work to build their careers and their relationship, while facing temptation, adversity and unknown forces that threaten to tear them apart. A Mary and Matthew modern AU saga. The second story of the Celebrity series, the sequel to Six Months of Summer, and followed by Golden Ashes.
1. Chapter 1

**Stormbraver**

 **Chapter 1:**

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, January 21, 2017**

 _'This has been an absolutely crazy morning. Here's what we know – the video of Henry Talbot that was obtained by the Daily Mail was recorded sometime in the summer while the actor was in Australia filming Thor: Ragnarok. Based on what we know, and there's entertainment media all over the world looking into this now, no other cast members were at this party, so no Chris Hemsworth, no Tom Hiddleston, no Mark Ruffalo, as far as we know…'_

Anna looked up at the television mounted on the wall, barely able to process what she was seeing. Watching the video of Henry doing drugs was shocking enough, but nothing compared to what she imagined the fallout would be. The media was all over the story like rabid hounds on fresh meat. It was a dream headline – Famous, handsome, successful actor caught behaving very badly. Blogs and gossip websites were lighting up with speculation and numerous theories and rumours. When scandal hit, the first rule was to try and get out ahead of it, control the narrative and point it in the direction you wanted so you could do damage control. So far, there had been no word from Henry or his team, and it seemed now that the leaked video had gone viral, there was no controlling the storm that followed.

"I don't bloody care what he gets up to, but now my name is all over the news," Mary sneered, pacing back and forth, her phone in one hand, her headset in her ear. She had been talking to Lady Rosamund Painswick, her agent and aunt ever since the story broke some ten minutes ago.

As co-stars on the hit show, _Paladin_ , Mary and Henry were two of the more popular television actors in North America. Beyond the screen, they had carefully crafted the impression of a possible romance, never quite confirming or denying if they were together, and playing off the interest of their fans and the media's hunger for juicy gossip. While in reality, Mary couldn't stand Henry, she tolerated him and did her part to keep speculation about their rumoured romance alive. It had increased her profile, allowing her to take advantage of Henry's popularity, while also building her own. It wasn't an ideal arrangement, and she often regretted it, but it served a purpose. Now though, the danger was she would be linked to Henry's scandal as a result, and all the work she had done to build up her image might come crashing down.

 _'What's interesting to me, and what people want to know, is what did Mary Crawley know about all this? Now, she wasn't in Australia with him, we know that. They've never actually confirmed they are even a couple. But, we're hearing that Henry threw some pretty crazy parties in London, in Paris, and in Toronto where they both film their show. You have to wonder how could she possibly not know, if they really are as close as they seem to be.'_

Mary turned and glared at the screen. Every mention of her name made her cringe. With gossip flying about, it would be easy for industry types, studio executives, the powerful figures that she desperately wanted to impress, to jump to conclusions. She had spent the better part of the past two years developing this 'showmance' with Henry, leading everyone to speculate if they were together, a glamorous power couple. If he was caught doing drugs and partying with strippers and prostitutes, her name and reputation would be dragged down with him, and all the doors that she had painstakingly pried open through her hard work and discipline would be slammed shut.

"Get a hold of Henry. Get a hold of his people. Get a hold of someone and find out what the hell is going on, and what are they going to do to fix this!" Mary ordered, her voice full of fury.

 **Deluxe Guest Room, The Westin Chicago River North, Chicago, Illinois, USA, January 21, 2017**

Matthew sat up in bed, staring at the television screen, the volume turned way up. His mind was racing, a million thoughts running wild as he tried to make sense of what he was watching. He always knew that Henry liked to indulge in all manner of vices, but he never imagined anything like this. It wasn't as if he was ignorant to drug use among the rich and famous. Being an actor meant living a rather nomadic life, always being one performance away from either making it big, or being unemployed and broke. Back when he was struggling, he saw all manner of coping mechanisms. Some people smoked weed to relax, others drank themselves stupid on a regular basis, there was even the odd sex addict. He had seen people dabble in the harder drugs too – amphetamines, crystal meth, cocaine, what have you – it was all readily available, and everyone knew how to be discrete about it.

Apparently, Henry had fucked up, and how.

His thoughts turned to Mary and he glanced at his smartphone. She hadn't replied to his texts, but that wasn't surprising. She was likely in crisis talks with her aunt Rosamund and Anna, her personal assistant and best friend. Matthew was never in favour of Mary's fake romance with Henry. Years ago when he first met him in England, he put him in the same category as all the other arrogant pricks who just wanted to get Mary into bed. Since moving to Toronto and getting back together with her, he learned that his suspicions were confirmed. Henry was a gifted actor, that was obvious, but he had a ridiculous sense of entitlement, was in love with all the attention, accolades and plaudits he received, making the common error of believing in his own greatness.

Well, he was going to have more attention than he wanted now.

He wondered what Mary was thinking, what her next move would be. Her name was being mentioned all over the news, everyone recklessly speculating as to whether she knew about Henry's drug use, whether he was cheating on her with these strippers and escorts, or whether she knew all about it. One disgusting reporter even had the nerve to suggest she was in on it, that she attended the same parties in Toronto and partook in all the same debauchery. Watching her name bandied about without any factual proof enraged him.

Suddenly, the short distance between Chicago and Toronto seemed gargantuan. He was still in for another week of filming on _Black Panther_ and she was busy shooting the first episodes of the new season of _Paladin_. He wanted to go to her, support her, help her get through this, but all he could do was sit and wait for her to reply to his messages.

Blinking at the screen, a thought occurred to him. Even if he was back in Toronto, what would he do? If faced with this scenario and Mary asked him for advice, what would he say? Sure, he could hold her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right in the end, but what did that mean? He needed a plan. The woman he loved was in danger due to the thoughtless and reckless actions of her bastard of a co-star. He had to do something.

Picking up his phone again, he pressed a speed dial button and brought the phone to his ear, quickly calculating the time change between Chicago and London.

"Hello," a pleasant voice answered.

"Hi, Phyllis? It's Matthew," he said.

"Matthew!" Phyllis said, her voice serious with concern. "Hello! How are you? Is everything all right? How's Mary?"

"I haven't spoken to her yet. She's probably dealing with her aunt Rosamund to try and get a handle on all of this," he said.

"Yes, yes, of course," she said. "We've been watching the news since the story broke. I must say, it sounds so dreadful!"

"Yes, it does. Phyllis, can you get Joe on the line? I need to speak to both of you," he said.

"Right away, Matthew. Hang on. I'll go and get him. He's just in the kitchen," she said.

He took a deep breath and waited for her to fetch her husband, his agent, Joseph Molesley. If Matthew was going to put something together to help Mary, he would need help.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, January 21, 2017**

"God, they're here already," Mary whinged, looking at the television as the news broadcast showed a live shot of the street outside of her building, paparazzi and reporters milling about for any glimpse of her. "You would think there were far more important things going on in the world than a Mary Crawley sighting."

Anna nodded sympathetically. They had come here on Lady Rosamund's instructions to pack some of Mary's things to take back to Anna's. Her suspicions had been proven correct. The media were out looking for Mary, and coming and going from her apartment would become difficult and annoying. There were guards and bellmen to secure the parking entrance and exit, but she didn't want to have to put up with the mob everytime she felt like going out shopping or to and from work. She also didn't want to be locked up in her own building.

"They won't know you're staying with me. That will keep them away from you while we wait to hear from Henry," Anna said.

Mary nodded as Anna went back into the bedroom to finish packing. Mary went over to the kitchen and got a bottle of water. Her phone had been buzzing all morning, concerned messages coming in from everyone. In addition to her friends and some of her castmates, Mum, Sybil, Edith and Matthew had all texted and called. She would get back to them eventually but for now, she just wanted to talk to Henry and get to the bottom of all of this.

She drank her water and sighed, looking out the window and wondering if the paparazzi had infiltrated any of the surrounding office buildings to try and get a photo of her. In the beginning, the idea of a 'showmance' with Henry, or with anyone, didn't appeal to her. She wanted to be known for her acting, for her talent and dedication. Getting attention based on who she was dating was as insulting as the public putting undue importance on her English accent, or her bra size, or any other superficial tidbits that had nothing to do with whether she was a good actress or not. But she had seen for herself what a difference the gossip made.

It began innocently enough. Since she and Henry had numerous love scenes on the show, fans would comment on how much chemistry they had, how good they looked together, and speculation would rise. The more appearances they made together, the more people began wondering if they were dating in real life. Photos of them were splashed all over the Internet, and she was being talked about even when the show wasn't on. The buzz about her and Henry kept her relevant all year-round, and so she encouraged it in subtle ways, standing a bit closer to him, smiling at him, laughing with him a bit more than usual. He had taken full advantage, kissing her cheek whenever he could, often putting his hand on her back or looking at her adoringly when the cameras were on them. He tried to escalate their relationship, but she told him repeatedly and in no uncertain terms that she wasn't interested. Her mild annoyance with him had turned to full-on dislike when he continued to pursue her, even after she and Matthew got back together. On numerous occasions, she considered ending the 'showmance'.

If only she had.

"All set," Anna declared, coming back out in the living room. "I've packed about a week's worth of clothes. Hopefully by then you'll be able to get back in here unnoticed.

"Thanks, Anna," Mary said genuinely, smiling at her assistant. "I've been thinking though. Your house may not be the right place to go. Everyone knows you're my assistant. If they are able to track me down there, it will cause all sorts of problems for you and your neighbours, and I don't want that."

Anna frowned in confusion. "All right, well then where will you go? Another hotel? They've probably got spies all over downtown."

"You're probably right," Mary agreed. "That's why I need to find someplace where no one knows me."

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, January 21, 2017**

Rosamund frowned as she typed away on her laptop. She usually didn't mind working on a weekend, but today was proving quite disastrous thus far. The clever bastards at the Daily Mail had waited until a Saturday afternoon to break their story about Henry, knowing that it was morning in North America and they had the entire news wire to themselves. Since the video went online, she had fielded calls, texts and emails from around the world, agents relaxing at home and suddenly thrown into the fray, reporters looking for a comment from Mary, even Robert and Cora had messaged her wanting to know what was going on.

It was going to be a long day.

In a rather ironic twist, her carefully planned strategy for Mary was now the cause of her problems. By never confirming or denying any relationship with Henry, they allowed speculation to run rampant now. Ignoring the story would be suicide, even though there was technically nothing to link Mary to the video at all. Issuing a statement denying the relationship would call into question all of their behaviour to date, and make Mary seem manipulative and conniving. Rosamund didn't even want to think about the reaction if her niece came out in support of Henry.

She frowned and replied back to yet another agent saying that she was still looking into the matter and that no, she hadn't yet heard from Henry or his people. She could hear Mama's voice in her head, berating her for getting Mary into this mess in the first place, questioning if she had been right to trust her career to her management. If Violet Crawley's health wasn't deteriorating, she might even call her. As it was, she was rather relieved that Mama would never know or remember any of this.

Her eyes widened as the call display on her phone lit up. Clearing her throat, she answered the call as pleasantly as possible.

"Kevin, hi," she said.

"Rosamund," he replied curtly. "Look, I'll get to the point. Obviously, we're scrambling a bit over here to deal with this story about Henry. I wanted to keep you in the loop since whatever decisions we make about the show will affect Mary as well."

"Of course," she said cautiously.

"I've been on the phone all morning. I'm supposed to be at my son's basketball game right now and I've had to skip it. Anyway, as you can expect, the advertisers aren't happy, the affiliates aren't happy, and I'm definitely not happy. We haven't bothered to ask Henry for an explanation. The video speaks for itself," he said.

"Yes, it most certainly does," she agreed.

"I have to tell you, right now, we're leaning towards cutting the show. The only thing we're discussing over here is whether to finish out the fifth season or pull the plug immediately. None of our advertisers wants to be associated with Henry, and obviously, the network isn't thrilled about what kind of image this presents. We've spent a ton of money on the new season already, but we may just have to eat that to save the rest of our schedule."

Rosamund's eyes went wide in shock. "Cancel the show? That seems rather drastic. Surely you can proceed without him? That was already on the table anyway, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but obviously this is a game changer. We were going to ease things along slowly, get Tony established on the show and shift the focus more to Mary's character. That would have set us up well for Season 6. If Henry stayed, we had a bunch of different directions we could go, and if he left, we would be prepared. The whole production is tainted now. I don't know if anyone wants to touch _Paladin_ after this."

"I fully understand that tremendously difficult spot you're in," she said evenly. "But I assure you, Mary had nothing to do with any of this."

"That doesn't really matter, does it? Her name is out there. People are talking about her almost as much as him, and none of it is positive. Some of the people here are wondering if we were to continue, if there wouldn't be questions about her, too. We can't have the media digging into the backgrounds of all of our talent. The focus needs to be on the shows, and if Mary is involved, I don't know if that will happen."

Her chest tightened, alarm bells ringing in her head. "When will you make a decision?"

"We need to figure this out pretty quick. Henry's people tell me that they'll be putting out a statement shortly, but I don't see how we can go forward with him. It's just a question of what we do with the show now. I've got another meeting. I'll get back to you."

He hung up before she could reply. Closing her eyes, covered her mouth with her hand, feeling lost and helpless. It was one thing to deal with the media and Henry's agents. The network was another story altogether. Rosamund had debated pulling Mary from _Paladin_ after this season anyway. She wanted her to move on to more lucrative and high profile opportunities in films, but she wanted it to happen on her terms. If the show was cancelled, the stigma could follow Mary throughout her career.

Swallowing nervously, she went back to answering messages, and sent another urgent text to Henry's agents, demanding that they get back to her immediately.

 **Deluxe Guest Room, The Westin Chicago River North, Chicago, Illinois, USA, January 21, 2017**

Matthew frowned as he scrolled over his laptop screen, going over the different emails and attachments that Joe and Phyllis had sent over. The television was still on, the news anchors having moved on to other stories, but jumping back in every fifteen minutes to remind everyone of the developing scandal involving Henry. Even when they had nothing new to say, they just played a clip from the now infamous video again. More views. More clicks. More furore. By now, the West Coast would have picked up the story, and he imagined there were frantic conference calls happening all over the place. Even Alex, his best friend and Anna's husband, had texted from Los Angeles with a bewildered _'WTF?!'_

Henry and his team had been remarkably quiet so far. Matthew was expecting a statement from them at any moment, but as the minutes passed, he wondered what they were up to. Would Henry have the audacity to claim that it wasn't him in the video? Would he conjure up some excuse to try and downplay the apparent seriousness of it all? Matthew wouldn't put anything past him. Coming off his Golden Globe victory earlier this month, he thought he was the King of the world.

His eyes went wide as he heard the familiar ringtone of Usher and Alicia Keys' _My Boo_ playing from his phone. Going over to the coffee table, he grabbed it and answered the call.

"Hello? Mary?" he asked anxiously.

"Hello, darling," Mary replied, her voice sounding tired. "What's new?"

"Oh, nothing," he said, sitting down on the sofa. "Just sitting here watching United, you know. Lazy Saturday morning."

She laughed. "God, I love you. United aren't even playing."

He chuckled. "Thought you wouldn't know."

She sighed heavily. "Well, this is a right mess I've gotten myself into, isn't it? No less than I deserve, of course."

"Mary," he began.

"No, please don't," she said. "I was a fool, and I'm being paid out for my foolishness. Tying myself to him, God, what was I thinking?"

"It did work for a while," he reminded her, though his voice lacked conviction.

"And now it's gone and blown up in my face," she said bitterly. "I used him because I wanted to become more well known, more famous. Well, I'm certainly that now."

"Have you heard from him?" he asked.

"No," she replied. "He's going to release a statement in the next short while, but his team aren't replying to Aunt Rosamund's calls, and he hasn't answered mine, not surprisingly."

"What a fucking idiot," he said, shaking his head. "What are you going to do?"

"I have no idea. Things are falling apart up here. The network's suspended filming for now. They're considering pulling the show. The paparazzi are staking out my building. There's rumours that Thea's had to talk to the studio to reassure them about _Shattered_. It's all a mess."

He blinked in surprise. He and Mary had just wrapped filming on _Shattered_ in September. It was his first major motion picture and was scheduled for release in March. They were due to begin promoting it next month.

"So you're bunkered in at Anna's, then?" he asked.

"No, actually. I didn't want to risk it. If they find me through her, they'll bring the mob to her doorstep, and I couldn't have that," she said resignedly.

"Oh, right, that's smart of you. So where are you, then? Not back at yours, surely?" he asked, worried for her safety.

"No, I packed up some of my things and escaped before they caught sight of me. I snuck over to your place, actually," she said.

He blinked in surprise. "Oh. Well, that's quite brilliant, although now I'm worried that I might have left the place a mess."

She laughed and the sound of it made him smile. "No, it's fine, really. Anna's gone out for groceries and I have an entire closet full of your shirts to lounge in. Since I don't have to go to the studio tomorrow, I can hole up here in complete anonymity. I even went in through the back entrance so the concierge wouldn't see me."

"He can be trusted, I'm sure," he said. "For one thing, he doesn't watch _Paladin_ so he won't know who you are. All he cares about is hockey."

"Lucky for me. If only I could figure out what to do next so easily," she said, sighing in frustration.

"Well, I have an idea. I don't know if it's any good or not, but I was thinking about how you might respond," he offered.

"What is it? I'm willing to listen to anything," she said.

"I know you can't really ignore the story, but maybe if you changed the focus a bit then the press wouldn't be so obsessed with whether you had anything to do with Henry doing drugs or not," he explained.

"And how would I do that?" she asked.

He took a deep breath. "Well, we could go public."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Go public? You and me?"

"We wouldn't need to make a production of it," he explained quickly. "Just post a few photos online, I could have Joe be ready with the obligatory 'Mary and Matthew are old friends' or whatever, and it just might confuse the media enough to wonder who exactly you're with."

"Oh, Matthew, I'm afraid it isn't so easy as that," she said.

"I'm not suggesting it's an instant fix," he said. "However, at least this way you have more control over the story, and can distance yourself from Henry. Maybe some reporters will think you're just trying to save your own skin, but we don't need people to believe us. We just need them to consider the possibility that you were never with Henry."

"I think it'll just come off as a desperate play," she said ruefully. "Besides, I don't know if it even sends the message that I want. It will make me seem as if I'm trading off, hiding behind a man in a moment of crisis, defining myself by my relationship status once again. Nothing will have changed."

He frowned. "Well, it isn't as if Henry and I are at all comparable."

"You will be in the eyes of the fans and the media," she grumbled. "No, I don't think that makes sense."

He rolled his eyes. "All right."

"God, this whole thing is so ridiculous," she complained. "So he did drugs at a party in Australia. It isn't as if that's overly egregious."

He blinked in shock. "Not overly egregious? He's a drug addict, Mary."

"Oh, Matthew, you needn't be so dramatic. I'm sure he just does it recreationally," she muttered.

"What? An addict is someone who abuses substances despite consequences. Whether it's alcohol, drugs, sex, whatever. He can't have possibly been so stupid as to think no one at that party would record him, and he did it anyway. It seems pretty clear to me," he said.

"I'm not condoning what he did," she said defensively. "But it seems the reaction to it has been rather overblown. Cancelling the show just because he was caught doing drugs? Honestly?" she said.

"Darling, people get sacked for far less these days. Henry always had a pristine image. Your show is racy and deals with mature subject matter and all that, but Henry's milked the whole 'squeaky clean' thing since he came over here. There's no way he gets caught doing drugs and the powers-that-be just let it slide, and they shouldn't," he said firmly.

"Yes, I understand all of that," she said in exasperation. "I don't care about Henry's image. I care about whether or not I still have a job, and if you expect me to just happily go along with the network pulling my show over this, you're mad."

"That's not what I'm saying at all," he complained.

"Whatever. This has been the absolute worst day," she said coldly.

"Did you know?" he asked cautiously.

"What?" she exclaimed. "No! Of course I didn't!"

"Well, he supposedly had wild parties in Toronto. I can't imagine you wouldn't have been invited," he suggested.

"What are you implying?" she demanded. "You think that I went to these parties of Henry's and did lines of cocaine with him, do you?"

"No, that's not what I meant," he grunted in frustration.

"Well, what do you mean, then?" she snapped. "I told you that there was nothing between Henry and I. Are you saying that you now think that I…hang on…it's Aunt Rosamund. Hopefully she's finally heard from Henry's people. I've got to go."

She hung up before he could say goodbye.

Groaning, he put the phone down and slumped back on the couch. He wasn't entirely confident of his plan, but it was at least an option, something that Mary could consider. To have her dismiss it so quickly made him feel as though he had failed her somehow, that he wasn't helping her when she needed it. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the television, the video of Henry smoking a glass pipe playing for the umpteenth time.

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, January 21, 2017**

"I don't understand. The man's her co-star, nothing more. Why would anyone presume to think that she had any involvement in this?" Robert asked, frowning at his wife as they both watched the television.

"Some people think that they're dating," Cora explained patiently, her eyes on the screen as the news anchors repeated the same script. _'Our top story today, once again, is the video of actor Henry Talbot caught apparently…'_

"But why would they think that? She's with Matthew," he noted.

"No one knows that except for us," she replied quickly. "And Mary has done nothing to dissuade the rumours of her involvement with Henry. In fact, she's encouraged it."

"Why in dear Heaven would she do that?" he asked, completely flummoxed.

"Nevermind that," she said. "The point is that there's a reason why her name keeps coming up now, and why she has to respond to it at some point soon."

"My God," he said, shaking his head. "And here I thought that our scandal would be all we had to worry about."

She turned and looked at him pointedly. "We don't have a scandal, and neither does Mary. So long as she and Rosamund manage this correctly, it'll all fade away soon enough."

"My darling, I believe you are severely underestimating the fascination that people have with seeing those of our class fall," he said gravely.

They both turned and looked at the television as the news anchor cut into the broadcast.

 _'We're going to cut away now as we have word that Henry Talbot will be releasing a statement momentarily. Of course, we've been following this story all morning, from when the video of the actor apparently smoking crystal meth at a party in Australia surfaced. Mr. Talbot is in Toronto filming the current season of Paladin, and we will bring you his statement as soon as we receive it.'_

Cora glanced over at Robert, the two of them sharing a concerned look.

 **The Residences of Maple Leaf Square, Downtown Toronto, Canada, January 21, 2017**

Tony Foyle sipped his tea, standing in the middle of the living room in his bathrobe as he watched the television. Like the rest of the entertainment world, he was following the drama over Henry with avid interest. Not only was he interested for personal reasons, but the entire reason he was in Toronto was to work on _Paladin_ with Henry and Mary. The video threw the entire production into chaos. He now waited for Henry's statement that was promised to be released imminently.

His assistant, Alexander Green, came into the living room, holding Tony's wireless phone headset in his hand.

"It's Lady Mabel," Green said, handing Tony his headset.

Tony nodded and tucked the headset into his ear. "Hello, dear," he said crisply. "Are you watching?"

"Of course, I am," she said. "I can't wait for the show to begin."

"What do you think he'll say? He wouldn't dare deny that it's him?" he asked.

"Oh no, no, no, he wouldn't attempt such a ridiculous ruse. Men like Henry love power, control, being on the front foot all the time. He'll be aggressive, offer a token apology but appear defiant at the same time. He'll play his part, darling, rest assured."

"I suppose we'll see," he said, looking up as the news anchor said they were cutting to a live feed from the office of Henry's lawyers.

Ironically, the room could have been taken from the _Paladin_ set. It was one of those boardrooms on the 50th floor of a downtown office tower, all glass walls, towering bookshelves full of legal texts and floor-to-ceiling windows. The lectern, made of fibreglass, appeared modern and sleek, centered precisely below the law firm's prominent logo.

A tall woman came into the shot and stepped up to the dais, placing a tablet down before her and nodding to the assembled media. She was wearing a black miniskirt, white blouse, and grey blazer, a sparkling diamond ring on one finger to match her earrings. Her blonde hair was tied up in a tight bun.

"That's his lawyer?" he asked.

"One of them, probably," she replied. "They chose a woman to appear more trustworthy. If she believes Henry, then so should we. Sending a man up to read his statement would have seemed too arrogant."

"She looks arrogant enough," he remarked.

"Shh, listen," she said.

 _'Thank you, everyone, for coming on such short notice. I'm sure you all understand that Mr. Talbot has been affected quite profoundly by this morning's story in the Daily Mail. He asks for respect and privacy as we continue to investigate the matter. I have a statement from him which I will read shortly. We won't be taking any questions afterward and our client will not be doing interviews until we gather further information. Written copies of the statement will be posted to all of Mr. Talbot's social media accounts shortly and hard copies are available at front reception.'_

"She's quite direct," he said.

"I like her. She set the tone and the parameters of the press conference right from the off," she commented.

' _To my family, friends and fans, I sincerely apologize for the pain caused by the story published today in the Daily Mail. At this time, I can confirm that I am the individual in the video. The rest of the allegations in the story, including quotations from supposed anonymous sources, are unfounded and categorically denied. For those who are disappointed by my actions in the video, rest assured that I am even more disappointed in myself. In a single moment of weakness, I allowed myself to be influenced by nefarious people who clearly did not have my welfare in mind. My association with those individuals ended long ago. While this does not excuse my behaviour, I wish to assure all of my supporters that such a grave error will never happen again, and that I will do all in my power to earn your forgiveness and trust once again. My fans have made me who I am today, and from the bottom of my heart, I am so very sorry, and will never let you down._

 _To my colleagues, especially my dear Paladin and Thor families – your support and kind words today mean more to me than I can ever express. All that we have accomplished together cannot be tarnished by my one indiscretion, and I thank you all for continuing to believe in me. Most importantly, to my dear Mary, I am not worthy of your unwavering support. Thank you for keeping me going.'_

Tony shook his head as the news broadcast cut back to the anchors, who promptly displayed the text of Henry's statement and began analysing it.

"The arrogant bastard," he sneered.

"I told you, darling," she said smugly. "Completely predictable."

"Is it enough, do you think?" he asked.

"It's a great start," she replied. "What the network decides to do is the next question."

"What about Mary?" he asked.

"She's right where we want her...reeling," she said, laughing merrily.

 **Deluxe Guest Room, The Westin Chicago River North, Chicago, Illinois, USA, January 21, 2017**

"Fucking little punk ass bitch!" Matthew said tightly, glaring at the television. He turned away, a scowl on his face, unable to read Henry's statement any further, the words burned into his memory. He wasn't surprised that Henry was far from contrite, but to give the impression that he had all these people on his side, almost condoning his behaviour was ridiculous. It was the last comment about Mary that infuriated him the most, however. She couldn't possibly be supporting him, could she?

He checked his phone. No text from Mary. She was probably just as shocked by Henry's statement as he was and most likely was busy trying to figure out her next move. A flash of trepidation entered his mind as he thought of Lady Rosamund giving her advice on this. Surely even she wouldn't try and spin this somehow to keep the 'showmance' going?

His mind was working too fast, his anger growing by the second. He hated Henry for getting caught in a compromising position. He hated himself for not being at Mary's side. Though he didn't want to admit it, he hated her for not getting out ahead of this, doing something definitive. She didn't have to go along with his plan, but she had to do _something_. With Henry releasing his statement, he was now driving the narrative, and was dragging her along with him. All the world believed that his statement confirmed what they suspected – that Henry and Mary were a couple, and moreover, that she was standing by her man through the scandal.

"Fuck!" he shouted, his hands balled into fists. He felt useless, weak, ignored and forgotten all at once. Spinning around, he stormed over to his suitcase and grabbed his gym clothes and trainers, throwing them over his shoulder. Changing quickly, he searched around the room for his earphones, finally finding them in the closet, buried in the pocket of his coat. One of the televisions in the fitness centre would most likely be showing coverage of the scandal, and he needed his music to drown out the sound.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, January 21, 2017**

Anna stared at her computer, her eyes moving around the screen, shifting from an email, to a chat screen, to a web browser and back again. She moved between applications quickly, processing all the information and deciding whether it was something she could use, or just leave in the background and come back to it later.

Once she had Mary set up at Matthew's apartment, she came back home. It was easier for her to coordinate things from her own office, and she was paranoid that if she was seen entering and exiting Matthew's building too often, someone would discover Mary's whereabouts. Mary was constantly speaking with Lady Rosamund, and kept Anna updated via text. After Henry's ridiculous statement to the press, they were scrambling to find out whatever they could before Mary responded.

Henry's scandal only mattered insofar as it might affect Mary's career. She didn't care if his name and reputation were ruined. It was far more important to figure out what the repercussions would be, and so that's what Anna focused on. All morning, she had been in constant communication with her numerous industry contacts – other assistants, staff who worked at the networks and studios, even secretaries at the talent agencies – they controlled the flow of information, and so they knew what decisions were made almost as soon as their bosses made them.

The big concern right now was how the network would react. Filming on _Paladin_ was suspended until further notice, and Lady Rosamund reported that the advertisers and affiliate stations were not happy, to say the least. Whether Henry being caught doing drugs was an actual serious offence according to the media and public opinion was one thing, but if the corporations that paid the bills said it was, then it was. With the scandal mere hours old, this could still go a number of different ways. They had to find out if the network would at least commit to finishing Season 4, whether they would let Henry back on set, and what their plans were for Mary going forward. If sacking Henry would appease the sponsors, then there was still a chance that the show would go on with Mary as the star. Before she could make any statement of her own, she had to know which way things were leaning.

Anna frowned as the call display popped up on her screen. She pressed her headset to answer.

"Hi. I can't really talk right now," she said crisply.

"I know," Green said. "Just wanted to check in. Tony's worried about Mary, and I'm worried about you."

"We're both fine, thanks, all things considered," she replied. "We're in crisis management. I'm trying to find out what the network wants to do."

"So is Tony," he said. "He's got his agents making calls. He left _The Walking Dead_ so he could work on the show, and they promised him a significant role. He's more concerned about Mary right now, I think, but he's got his team looking into things."

"No sympathy for Henry, I gather?" she asked.

"They aren't exactly friends, as you can well imagine," he said, chuckling. "Anyway, I'll let you go. If Tony hears anything, I'll let you know, and I'll make some calls of my own, too."

"Thanks. I'll talk to you later," she said, hanging up the call.

She went back to her computer, checking on various leads and so far finding nothing more of value. The person she most needed to speak to was her husband. As a financier for the entertainment industry, Alex was connected with every studio and major advertiser. Even though none of his clients were involved with _Paladin_ , he knew about every deal and move in Hollywood before they happened, or had the means to find out. He had been in Los Angeles for the past week meeting with clients, and they were due to reunite at the SAG Awards a week from now. That was another thing that was up in the air – whether Mary would even go amidst all the gossip, and whether she would accompany Henry as she had in the past.

A wave of relief filled her chest as the call display window popped up with her husband's smiling face on it. She opened the video conference and smiled at him.

"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded.

"Hello to you, too, love," he said pointedly, frowning at her. "Sorry, but I've been a bit busy dealing with some colossal fuck-up by this douche on an annoying show."

"Haha," she answered. "Did you find out anything?"

"Say you love me first," he said.

"God damn it, Alex!" she sneered. "Just fucking tell me!"

"Such language! You kiss your husband with that mouth?" he shot back.

"Not anytime soon if you keep this up!" she retorted. "Babes, come on, I love you, you know that. Now tell me what you know."

He smiled at her pique. "The network isn't releasing a statement. They were considering it, but they're going to keep it quiet for now. They've lost one sponsor for sure and affiliates in Boston and Mexico are threatening to pull the show. The next 48 hours will be crucial. If they can appease the affiliates, then there's a good chance they'll finish Season 5. The sponsorship dollars are already allocated anyway, and they don't think there will be much of a loss in viewership, besides. If I had to bet, I'd say there's no way there will be a Season 6, regardless of whether Henry's involved, or not."

Anna frowned, nodding grimly at the news. "What are the chances they could find someone to fill the funding void for Season 6?"

"It depends on what the budget is, I suppose. They would be saving on Henry's salary potentially, so that would help, but if Mary tries to demand a raise, that might kill it right there. They're already paying Tony more than her for this season, so presuming that he would come back, that's already extra salary that they can't afford," he said.

"Wonderful. So either the show gets cancelled, or it goes on only if she takes a pay cut. That's fantastic," she said sarcastically.

"What did she think about Henry's statement?" he asked.

"She wasn't surprised, really, though that part at the end made her see red," she replied. "He did that all on his own. Their side didn't clear that with any of us."

"Well, it certainly sounds like they did," he noted. "And it fits with all the speculation about the two of them."

"Yeah, it looks pretty tidy, I know," she said. She blinked suddenly as a thought entered her mind. "Matthew knows that we had nothing to do with that, right?"

"I don't know. He hasn't answered my texts and his phone is going straight to voicemail. He's probably in the gym working over a punching bag, picturing one man's face in particular," he said.

"Oh God," she groaned. "I'll mention it to Mary, but I don't know if she'll have time to talk to him."

"He's stewing," he said. "No one can get through to him now. Just have to wait for him to come out of it, and hopefully, he doesn't do or say anything stupid."

"Right," she said resignedly. "Well, I better get back to it. I'll tell Mary and Lady Rosamund what you found out. Thanks, babes. Love you."

"Love you too," he replied. "Call me when you can."

She blew him a kiss and signed off, switching to her chat conversation with Mary and filling her in.

 **Lee Garden Restaurant, Chinatown, Downtown Toronto, Canada, January 21, 2017**

The bells hanging above the door rang happily as Mary opened the door and ducked into the restaurant. She kept her sunglasses on, glancing around at the round tables covered with white tablecloths, the blackboards and papers covering the green walls, listing the menu written entirely in Chinese. The place was barely a quarter full, and she walked briskly to the back, ducking through the kitchen and into a small room near the back entrance.

"Ah, hello, darling," Henry said as she closed the door behind her. "Green tea?"

She frowned at him, coming over and taking a seat at the small table. He poured her tea into a small porcelain cup and set the pot down.

"I was going to order chicken fried rice and sweet and sour pork," he said. "Would you like anything?"

"No," she said coldly. "I'm not here to eat, Henry."

"Well, I'm sure you won't mind if I do," he said easily. He pressed a button on the wall and a waiter immediately opened the door and stuck his head in, disappearing as soon as Henry ordered his food.

"Go on and try the tea. It's quite good. I even cleaned your cup before you got here. They can be rather sloppy about such things here, I'm afraid," he continued.

She eyed her cup suspiciously, then took a sip, the hot liquid warming her.

"I suppose I should be grateful that you didn't want to meet in a much more public place," she noted. "Come here often, do you?"

"The owner knows the benefit of being discrete, and how generous actors can be for the privilege," he replied. "I don't really see the need for secrecy, but I knew you would want to get together somewhere away from prying eyes, so this private room will suit."

She put her tea cup down and looked at him carefully. His hair was perfectly styled, as usual, his tall and lanky frame dressed in a navy blue cashmere sweater, jeans and boots. He looked like the Henry she knew – handsome, at ease, just a hint of mischief behind his bright eyes and playful smirk – rather than a man who was all over the gossip pages.

"You know why I'm here," she began. "You had no right to mention me in your statement, let alone lie."

"Lie? I did not such thing. I said that I'm not worthy of your support, and I certainly am not," he said easily.

She rolled her eyes. "You called me 'my dear Mary'."

"You are dear to me, you know that," he said, smiling as he reached across the table for her hand.

She scoffed and pulled her hand away. "You also mentioned my 'unwavering support' when you didn't even return my agent's calls all day."

"Are you saying you aren't supporting me?" he asked with feigned concern.

"You didn't even ask me if I was before you released that bloody statement!" she snapped. "And you knew very well how that would be interpreted! Everyone thinks we're together!"

He sat back and smiled. "Really? The same way that everyone thought we were together after you lured me back to your hotel in New York just so the media would jump all over it? The same way that everyone thought we were together when you smiled at me in every interview, on every red carpet and at every photoshoot? The two of us being together isn't news, Mary. The speculation has run rampant for two years. You should know. You've been feeding it."

"That's different," she said. "We both agreed to put those hints out there and let the fans and bloggers run with it."

"So you're saying that it's all right for people to think we're together when it suits your purpose, but not when it suits mine, is that it?" he asked, looking at her pointedly.

"For God's sake, Henry, don't try and spin this!" she said tightly. "You fucked up. You have to face the consequences of that, but don't bring me into this. You had no right."

"Oh fucking grow up, Mary," he said, frowning at her. "You think this is going to hurt me? It'll blow over by the end of the week, and if it doesn't, so what? Having my name mentioned throughout the news cycle is never a bad thing."

"How can you say that?" she demanded. "You're not worried at all?"

"Why would I be?" he asked. "What's the worst that can happen? I'm hot right now, Mary. I've got two Emmys, I just won the Golden Globe and I'll be picking up my third Actor this weekend. They got a video of me smoking meth. So fucking what? You know I'm not the only one in the industry who has."

"You think you're still going to win next weekend after this?" she asked in disbelief.

"Mary, voting has been going on since last month. Do you honestly think that anyone voting this week is going to change their minds because of this? Even if some do, it won't be enough, not with the majority of votes having already been cast. Even if I don't win, it's not as though they can pull my nomination now," he said.

"You're actually going to show up at the ceremony?" she said incredulously.

"I already have a blue pocket square to match your dress," he said, smiling knowingly.

"You're absolutely delusional," she stated.

"And you once again have made the mistake of thinking that your opinion means anything," he said plainly. "Let's assume that the network sacks me from _Paladin_. All right, fine. The show's over anyway. They were never going to commit to a fifth season built around you and Tony, so releasing me early is no loss. I've got three movies releasing this year already, and two filming in the summer. Marvel's not going to reshoot _Thor_ just because of this. My career won't suffer one bit because of this. Maybe I might have to take a few months off. Fine. I'll go to the Caribbean. Months from now, this will all just be a funny anecdote. Who knows? It might even make me more attractive. Everyone loves a man with a bit of a bad side, don't they?"

She swallowed, part of her disgusted with how reckless he was being, and yet another part of her feared there might be more than a little bit of truth to what he was saying. The industry was fickle, and the attention spans of the public even more so. Henry was a bankable star. Would that really change just because he liked to party?

"I did you a favour, Mary," he continued. "You don't need to do damage control, or try and spin this, or whatever ineffective strategy your aunt Rosamund might come up with. You just need to keep quiet and go about your business. If the network decides to finish Season 5, then you know what you're doing until June. If they don't, you're free to look for other projects. _Shattered_ is coming out in less than two months. If you're as good in that as you say you are, then the studios should be all over you. Be honest, you weren't completely committed to going back for another season of _Paladin_ anyway, not without me. So, you see? This could all turn up golden for you, as long as you don't screw it up."

"As long as I go along with your deception," she said bitterly.

"I'm sorry, was I the one to come up with the idea of a 'showmance'? If I recall correctly, it was originally your aunt's idea, wasn't it? I'm willing to bet that if you were to tell her the exact details of our conversation, she would agree with me in the end. After all, she's very much of a similar mind, isn't she? Pragmatic to the end," he said, smiling at her.

She frowned at him.

"Shall we call Lady Rosamund and find out?" he asked, picking up his phone from the table.

"No, there's no need," she said.

"Very well," he said. He paused while the waiter came in and served his food, then continued after the man had left. "So, I don't see how this is a problem. Everyone wins in the end."

"Not everyone," she said.

"Oh, right, there is that boyfriend of yours, Matthew," he said, pretending not to remember his name. "He seems the self-righteous type. Let me guess, he thinks drugs are bad for you, yes? I'm sure his opinion of me has just plummeted in light of today's news. Well, he might be a bit put out if you continue our relationship, but he'll come around. He knows how important your career is to you, after all, and he would never do anything to get in the way, would he? No, of course he wouldn't. He loves you. Aww, the sweet thing."

"Don't you dare speak ill of him!" she hissed. "Matthew is a better man than you'll ever hope to be!"

He laughed heartily, reaching out with his chopsticks to bring more sweet and sour pork to his bowl. "Maybe he is, maybe he is. But you know, I like being me. I'll take my life over his, and it's not even close."

She couldn't take it anymore. His smug expression, his arrogant attitude, his carefree, blasé view of everything. All that she had worked so hard for, fought for, was threatening to crumble because of his stupid mistake and he didn't even care.

She rose from her chair and turned for the door, the air in the small room suddenly feeling hot and stifling.

"I'm flying to Los Angeles on Tuesday," he called out, picking up a piece of pineapple and bringing it to his lips. "I'll have my people send Lady Rosamund my itinerary so we can coordinate our arrivals."

She stopped, her hand on the door, her shoulders tense. Looking back at him over her shoulder, her eyes blazed with fury.

"You do that," she said, then opened the door and left, imagining the grin on his face as he watched her go.

 **Deluxe Guest Room, The Westin Chicago River North, Chicago, Illinois, USA, January 21, 2017**

Matthew drank his Coke, glancing out the window at the tall office buildings and the Chicago River. The downtown looked quite dreary in winter, though there were still numerous hardy souls out for a jog. His script sat open on the settee, stuck on the same page for the past hour. Going to the gym hadn't cleared his mind. A soak in the tub hadn't, either. He was too worked up to take a nap, and it was too cold outside to go anywhere, not that he even wanted to. The dinner hour was approaching but he didn't have an appetite. Truthfully, he didn't have any desire to do much of anything.

His phone sat next to his script, a number of text messages and calls left missed and unanswered. Alex had been checking in every twenty minutes. He didn't want to talk to him. Even his mother had called. He certainly didn't want to talk to her. He wished today had never happened, he wished that Henry had never released his statement. He wished that Mary's silence didn't fill his head with so many deplorable thoughts.

When they were back at Downton Abbey for Christmas, she had mentioned something about how easy their relationship had been so far. When they dated years ago, before she rejected his proposal, before the break-up, it seemed they were pulled in a million different directions. They were both emerging actors, struggling to get noticed, to book jobs, to build their careers. As a result, they were stressed out much of the time, and if he was honest, he would admit that they fought a lot. They would fight about the smallest, stupidest things, then get over it and have make-up sex, only to go through the same cycle days later. When things were good, they were really good, but when things were bad, they were at each other's throats, no quarter given.

When they started dating again back in July, they both were determined to do things differently. They talked more. They shared their feelings, rather than keeping them bottled up and becoming passive aggressive. It wasn't perfect, but it was much better than before, and Mary had mentioned something about how being in Toronto was a bit of a blessing for them. Filming _Shattered_ together over the summer had let them live in their own private world, with few distractions or obstacles to come between them. They were being paid to spend every day together essentially, and were more in tune with each other than they had ever been before.

Now, as he sat in Chicago and she was in another country, he felt as if this was their first true test as a couple. He had endured her 'showmance' with Henry for months, had to stand idly by as she walked the red carpets at awards shows on his arm, had to watch silently as the trailers for _Paladin_ were released and every single one of them featured numerous hot scenes of her character kissing and having sex with Henry's. Those moments annoyed him, but they were quickly forgotten because soon enough they were back in Toronto and he had her all to himself again. This time, he wouldn't see her again until next weekend in Los Angeles, and even then, he certainly wouldn't have her to himself. The SAG Awards would be yet another reminder that he was an outsider, a part of her world, but not entirely in it.

He finished his Coke and sighed. If this was a test, they were failing miserably.

A knock at his door roused him from his wallowing and he stared at the door in confusion. Getting up, he walked over to open it, wondering who it could be. The only people he knew in Chicago were his cast mates and crew on _Black Panther_ , and none of them had any reason to come to his hotel.

His mouth fell open when he opened the door and saw his guest.

"May I come in?" Mary asked, looking at him guardedly.

He swallowed, then stepped aside.

She walked past him and into the room.

"This is cosy," she remarked, taking in the room as she went over to glance out the window.

"How…" he sputtered.

"I just caught the 4:10pm direct flight out," she explained, turning and looking at him. "With the time change I landed at 5pm, and here I am."

He nodded slowly. "Were you recognized?"

"I think so. It was a small plane, but thankfully no one said anything," she replied.

"I see," he said.

"Since it's the weekend and I don't have to work next week now, I thought I'd come down. Anna will meet me in Los Angeles in a few days ahead of the SAG Awards, so there was no real reason to stay in Toronto," she continued.

"I see," he said.

"And I missed you," she said softly, looking down at the floor. "I didn't like how we ended our last conversation, or, how I ended our last conversation, and I can only imagine how well Henry's statement must have gone over with you."

"Or didn't," he said wryly.

She smiled cautiously and nodded. "Anyway, I thought why bother staying at your apartment, wearing your shirts, sleeping in your bed, when the real thing was just a short flight away?"

He nodded and willed himself to move forward, coming before her, leaning in close. "I hope I live up to expectations, then."

She looked up at him, her eyes softening. "You always do."

He hugged her tight, kissing her cheek and swaying slightly.

"Mmm, God, you have no idea how badly I needed this," she said shakily, kissing his cheek.

"I think I understand completely, actually," he whispered.

Eventually, he led her to the bed and they sat down facing each other. He reached up and wiped her tears from her cheeks, causing her to smile.

"I love you," he said. "I will always love you. I hate what happened today, but only because I hated seeing you go through the wars without me. I know you're strong and you can handle it, but I just…I wanted to be there for you."

"You were. You are," she said, caressing his cheek. "Today just reminded me of how lucky I am to have you, to have a real man in my life, someone who knows who he is and doesn't play games. It sounds so basic, but it's such a rare thing. I was running around all day today trying to react to everything, come up with the perfect response. I was so terrified that I might make a mistake, say the wrong thing and jeopardize my career. I'm still afraid of that, really, but I remembered something this afternoon, something very important, and just in time, too."

"What's that, pray?" he asked.

She smiled. "I remembered that the entire reason I got into acting in the first place was to forge my own path. I didn't want to be bound by Granny's legacy, or Mum's. I didn't want people to see me and think 'oh, that's the Earl of Grantham's daughter' or 'that's the girl that comes from an acting family'. I wanted people to see me for me, and to succeed or fail on my own terms, and no one else's."

He nodded in understanding, recalling all the times back in England when she made bold career moves just to separate herself from the pack, and from her family past.

"So if I'm really so brave, why have I been so eager to define myself as Henry's co-star and rumoured girlfriend?" she continued. "Coming over to North America, I thought the rules here were different, and I was so eager to appease everyone that I lost track of what made me happy."

He nodded, impressed by her determination and the confidence in her voice that had been missing when they spoke earlier.

Her phone buzzed and she glanced at it briefly, then set it aside.

"Can you turn on the TV, please?" she asked.

"Uh, sure," he said, looking around the room. He got up and went over to the small desk and got the remote control, then pointed it at the television.

"It's on E!," he said sheepishly. "It's been on that channel all day."

"I was watching it, too," she said, nodding.

He came back and sat down next to her. "We can watch something else, if you like."

She reached over and took his hand, bringing it up to her lips and kissing it tenderly. "Just watch," she said, holding his hand on her lap.

He looked at the screen, watching as the familiar 'breaking news' music and graphic played and the news anchor came in.

 _'This just in – we have an official statement from Lady Mary Crawley. There has been rampant speculation all day as to whether we would hear anything from the multiple award-nominated actress, and rumoured girlfriend of Henry Talbot. In his statement released earlier today, Henry thanked Mary for her 'unwavering support'. Now, we have her comment on the Daily Mail story that broke this morning, and the video of Henry appearing to smoke crystal meth at a party.'_

Matthew blinked and looked at Mary. She was looking at the screen. She squeezed his hand and he held tight to hers in response. He turned back to the screen, where the text of Mary's statement was scrolling next to a photo of her at the Golden Globes.

 _'I was as shocked as anyone to read the story in the Daily Mail this morning involving my co-star, Henry Talbot. I have known Henry for six years, going back to our time in England, and I was extremely disappointed by his behaviour. While I have always respected Henry as an actor, and enjoyed working with him on Paladin, a show that is dear to us and so many people across the world, his private life has never been of any interest to me, and that is especially true today. I will have no further comment on this matter, which has nothing to do with me. I hope that Henry can get the help that he needs, and I remain committed to my show, the hard working and dedicated people who give their all everyday to put it together, and the millions of fans who support us, for which I am forever grateful.'_

Matthew turned off the television once the news anchor was done reading Mary's statement. He didn't want to hear the analysis, the nit-picking, the parsing of Mary's every word for some hidden meaning. He turned and took both of her hands in his.

"I may lose my show," she said quietly.

He nodded. "You might."

"The press will haunt me over this. Just because I said I wouldn't have any further comment doesn't mean they'll leave me alone," she said.

He nodded again. "Most likely not."

"The next few months could be quite painful," she said, cringing slightly.

He watched her closely. "They could be."

She found his blue eyes. "From now on, though, it's on my terms."

He pulled her into his embrace, rubbing her back as he felt her finally let go and lean into him.

"I'm with you, darling, no matter what."


	2. Chapter 2

**Previously:**

 **Deluxe Guest Room, The Westin Chicago River North, Chicago, Illinois, USA, January 21, 2017**

Matthew turned off the television once the news anchor was done reading Mary's statement. He didn't want to hear the analysis, the nit-picking, the parsing of Mary's every word for some hidden meaning. He turned and took both of her hands in his.

"I may lose my show," she said quietly.

He nodded. "You might."

"The press will haunt me over this. Just because I said I wouldn't have any further comment doesn't mean they'll leave me alone," she said.

He nodded again. "Most likely not."

"The next few months could be quite painful," she said, cringing slightly.

He watched her closely. "They could be."

She found his blue eyes. "From now on, though, it's on my terms."

He pulled her into his embrace, rubbing her back as he felt her finally let go and lean into him.

"I'm with you, darling, no matter what."

 **Chapter 2:**

 **Art Institute of Chicago, Grant Park, Chicago, Illinois, USA, January 24, 2017**

Mary walked slowly through the gallery, taking her time and stopping to examine the more interesting paintings that drew her attention. It was mid-morning, the museum having opened a half hour ago, and it was another hour still before the lunch crowd came through. The immense space was refreshingly quiet and deserted, giving her the privilege of moving around at her leisure, hair tucked under her beanie, sunglasses perched on top of her head, unnoticed and undisturbed.

The past few days in Chicago had been strange, but welcome. Matthew was shooting his final scenes for _Black Panther_ , and with the intense scrutiny around all Marvel films, it wasn't wise for her to accompany him to set, despite his assurances that it would all be fine. The last thing she needed was the comic book and superhero websites to notice her going into Matthew's trailer. Besides, this was his movie, and she wanted him to focus on the task before him, rather than be distracted by her.

Coming to Chicago had been a good idea. The media had no clue she was here, and the city was big enough and busy enough that she could move around in relative anonymity. With Matthew working long hours to wrap up in time for them to fly to California at the end of the week, she would have to fend for herself during the day.

Yesterday she went back to the Magnificent Mile and did some shopping. While it was quite romantic of her to spontaneously come down to see Matthew, she hadn't packed much at all in her rush to the airport. She only needed a few outfits to tide her over, and it was quite fun to be able to shop without any real time crunch. It had been ages since she had so many days off in a row, or was on her own without Matthew or Anna for company.

Though she was able to move along unhindered, some of the store clerks in the boutiques still recognized her and she was spotted by a few customers in Saks. She took selfies when asked, and signed a few autographs, but that was fine. Everyone who approached her was polite, and didn't say anything about Henry, which was more than she could say for her faceless detractors online.

 _'Mary Crawley is beyond stupid if she expects us to believe there was never anything between her and Henry Talbot. They were all over each other at the awards after parties earlier this month! The way they looked at each other, you can't fake that kind of heat!'_

 _'If Mary Crawley is seeing someone else, I feel sorry for him, because the way she acted with Henry Talbot onscreen and off went way beyond just colleagues.'_

 _'We consulted a body language expert to look at how Mary Crawley and Henry Talbot behaved around each other over the past few years. They have an 'obvious intimacy' and 'easy comfort' together, suggesting a familiarity that is typical of very good friends, or lovers.'_

 _'That no-talent biatch ain't shit. Henry's better off without her anyway.'_

 _'This is a tough time for them, but I know they'll get through it. Marbot 5eva!'_

 _'Mary, wake up! Henry is just too damn hot for you to leave him now!'_

She normally didn't read the comments on her Instagram posts, Facebook page, or mentions on Twitter. The numerous blogs and fan sites were to be avoided at all costs, especially now. Still, she did notice that Henry's supporters were rallying around him, and that there was the expected backlash against her. It was so typical of Hollywood gossip mongers and obsessed fans. He was the one who was caught in a scandal, but of course, she was the bitch for dumping him in his time of need, or so the theory went. All she could do was shake her head at such idiocy.

Truly, she had stopped worrying about Henry sometime on Sunday. Waking up naked in Matthew's arms, she felt rested and calm. They had a scrumptious breakfast, then he surprised her by taking her skating at the huge outdoor ice rink at Millenium Park. She was apprehensive at first, paranoia making her fear that she might be recognized, the two of them photographed together. However, just as he predicted, bundled up in their coats, scarves, hats and sunglasses, no one noticed them. It was delightful gliding across the ice holding his hand, spinning around with him and hugging him in public. Afterwards, they warmed up in a small café nearby, and finished a wonderful day at a cosy rare bookstore that he discovered during his stay. When they got back to his hotel for dinner, she vowed to move forward with a new determination. She had officially closed the chapter of her 'showmance' with Henry, and she likely would never work with him ever again. It was time to focus on her own career, and what dominated her thoughts now was the fate of _Paladin._ What would become of her show?

She moved on to another gallery of contemporary art, her mind drifting, apprehension tightening her chest. The network was still in talks, all anyone knew was that filming was suspended until next week, and maybe even beyond that. Aunt Rosamund said that there was no morality clause in Henry's contract, so there were no grounds to fire him from the show, at least not without paying him the rest of his exorbitant salary. She did want to finish Season 5. She felt she owed it to the fans, at the very least, and at this rate it would be difficult to find any other project to fill the same time in her schedule. Anna mentioned that a Season 6 seemed highly unlikely according to what Alex had found out, and Mary was still undecided about how that made her feel. She had never made up her mind whether she would go back for another year or not, and now that choice seemed to have been taken from her.

Taking a deep breath and sighing, she came upon _Liz #3_ , the iconic Andy Warhol painting of the late Elizabeth Taylor. The trademark vibrant colours made the actress look comical in a way – the dark red lips, the pink skin, the turquoise eye shadow – so different from typical celebrity portraits, especially in 1963. Mary had seen a poster with the same print, but using different colours, at the Tate Gallery in London a while back. Granny often joked about some shenanigans that she'd gotten up to with "Lizzie" back when they were young actresses. Mary never cared if the stories were true or not. Just the image of the two British screen legends drinking, smoking and laughing together while being young and gorgeous made her smile.

She spent several minutes just staring at the painting, contemplating how Warhol was so fascinated by celebrity and the tenuous nature of it. In 1963, Taylor starred in the epic _Cleopatra_ , the most expensive film ever made at that time. Granny often joked about how Taylor set a world record for most costume changes in a film with 65, but that number was nothing compared to what they would get up to in a typical weekend. Taylor was widely recognized as the most popular actress of her time, her lifestyle, fashion choices and love life followed closely, often dwarfing any legitimate commentary on her talent. Yet, both her health and career would decline mere years later, and she would be effectively retired by the mid-1970s.

Mary's eyes met Taylor's unblinking blue-tinged black irises in the portrait. She seemed so young here, still at the height of her powers, her life and career still stretching out ahead, stardom never-ending. Did she have any idea back then how it could all go wrong? Did she ever make any decision, and be terrified it would result in her ruin? Or, did she just assume the ride would go on for as long as she wanted, big budget roles, constant attention and handsome men always available, completely oblivious to her pending fall?

She frowned, pulling her gaze away from the painting. There were footsteps at the other end of the gallery, perhaps a school group, or tourists stopping in. Taking her leather gloves out of her coat pocket, she walked briskly for the exit, slipping away before anyone could see her.

 **Vaudeville Theatre, West End, London, England, January 24, 2017**

Mabel signed one last autograph and smiled at the breathless fan before moving away and heading down the street. It was sweet how people still gathered near the theatre's back entrance after shows to wait for the cast to emerge. She liked receiving their adoration, while also being able to leave them behind and not have to worry about being mobbed. Theatre patrons were always more civilized than basic fans. They knew and respected boundaries.

She took out her phone and scrolled through her different notifications. A smile crossed her lips as she skimmed over the latest gossip columns and articles about Henry and Mary. With the video having been released days ago and their opposing statements hours later, speculation now turned to the weekend's SAG Awards. Some wondered if they both would attend, whether either one would win, or if they did, whether they would acknowledge the other. There was the usual rubbish from 'exclusive sources close to the situation' saying they had been in private talks all week trying to reconcile, and others saying it was all an elaborate sham and they would be hand-in-hand once more on the red carpet. She imagined Mary being disgusted by all of it. The great Lady Mary Crawley loved attention, but only the right kind, and speculation about her love life dominating over whether or not she would win the Actor for Best Actress was certainly not welcome.

Ducking into a café, she lined up and patiently waited her turn to order her usual latté. Tony hadn't been able to locate Mary over these past few days. There was an outside chance she had left Toronto, maybe to go to Los Angeles early and do damage control with the network. Mabel smiled at the thought. Damage control. No amount of her usual smiling, flirting or whoring herself out to studio executives would get her out of this mess.

She ordered her drink and watched as the teenager behind the bar prepared it for her, adding an extra flavour shot and lots of whipped cream. Normally, she would take it to go, but this time she found a quiet table in the corner and sat down and continued to browse her phone.

One of the more legitimate articles was an interview with Mary's stylist, obviously done more than a week ago, talking about different designers and options that she was considering for the ceremony. Of all the things that Mabel disagreed with Mary on, fashion wasn't one of them. Mary always made great choices, she thought, always preferring the refined and sophisticated look over the daring and risqué. As she sipped her coffee, she mused, not for the first time that under different circumstances, she and Mary might have been good friends. They both came up together, moved in the same social circles, had similar attitudes and sensibilities. Unfortunately they were competitors, adversaries for the same parts and seeking the same success, and Lady Mary Crawley was hardly the friendly type. She preferred to stomp on her competition. Mabel knew that lesson well.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked out the window, all the old, bitter memories flooding back, reminding her of all she had lost, all that Mary had taken. There were moments where she wondered if, at the last, she would let Mary know who was responsible for her fall. She fantasized about seeing the shock in those dark brown eyes, watching her face crumble when she was finally punished for all of her sins. Ultimately, she didn't need Mary to know who was behind it all. There would be more than enough satisfaction in seeing her crawl back to Yorkshire with her career in taters without having to reveal herself. No, better to focus on the plan. It had all gone brilliantly well so far. Soon she would deliver her next barrage, and watch as Mary was engulfed in the flames.

 **Earls Kitchen + Bar, Downtown Toronto, Canada, January 24, 2017**

"And that should do it. Can I get you anything else? Anything at all?" the waitress said, smiling and reaching out to touch his shoulder.

"I think we're all right," Green said, nodding to her. "I'll be sure and let you know, though."

"Please do," the waitress replied, biting her lower lip as she looked at him, then turned and walked away.

Anna watched the exchange, then rolled her eyes as she reached for her water.

"What?" Green asked, smiling at her as he took up his fork.

"Nothing. I just was wondering if I should give the two of you a moment," she said wryly.

"I think what she has in mind for me will require more than a moment," Green said, smirking as he stabbed a forkful of chicken.

She frowned and went back to her salad.

"Don't worry," he said lightly. "I won't do anything so rude as to set something up with her while I'm here with you. I'll just see if she leaves me her phone number on the receipt at the end and deal with her later, if I feel like it."

"What do I care? It's no business of mine," she said.

"Be that as it may, we're having lunch and I'm enjoying myself. I don't need the distractions," he replied.

"You talk as though you have some experience with that sort of thing," she noted, taking another bite of her salad.

"What sort of thing?" he asked, looking at her in amusement.

She looked down and blushed slightly. "Well, it just seems to me that you're rather popular with waitresses. Whenever we go out to eat, they all pay you particular attention. They're all over you."

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean I always reciprocate, if that's what you're wondering," he noted.

"Are you saying you never have?" she asked, watching him closely.

"Have I never what?" he shot back.

She frowned. "You know what."

"I might," he said, laughing at her discomfort. "However, if you're going to ask me such a personal question, you should at least be brave enough to spell it out, don't you think?"

She scoffed and kept eating her salad.

He watched her eat for a moment, then casually took a sip of water. "I have, since you asked."

She looked up at him. He met her eyes, a playful smile on his lips as he leaned forward slightly.

"I've fucked a few waitresses in my time," he continued, his gaze unwavering. "No one in Toronto yet, but I've gotten a few offers."

She swallowed, then went back to her salad.

He returned to his chicken.

"How…" she began, stopping to gather herself before continuing, a frown on her face. "How did you manage that?"

He laughed and took another drink. "Now I know you aren't asking me for the precise mechanics of it all, surely?"

She blushed and looked away.

"Anna, you remember what it was like to be single, don't you? The challenge, the thrill of being pursued? I don't pretend that any of these encounters are meaningful, but it's quite basic, primal. I give them something they want, that's it," he said easily.

"Why you, though?" she asked. "I'm sure women like them get hit on by men all day."

"That's true," he agreed. "I don't know. Maybe it's that I don't slobber all over them, or try so hard to impress them, maybe it's my accent, who knows? You'd have to ask them. I've never had any complaints though, as far as I know, anyway."

She shook her head and kept eating her salad.

"Anyway, it's just a bit of mindless fun, no strings attached. They're using me, really, but that's all right. Everything doesn't have to be so serious all the time. Sometimes it's as simple as they want a good shag, and they think I can provide it," he finished.

She stayed quiet.

"What about you?" he asked.

"What about me?" she asked, frowning at him. "I'm married."

"Yes, but surely you notice when men are checking you out? Every woman has a sense for it," he said. "I know you must have noticed the manager downstairs."

She blinked. "What? No!"

He laughed and nodded. "He was looking at your arse as we were walking up the stairs."

She scoffed and picked at her salad. "Even if he was, that's hardly anything for me to care about."

"I'm not saying you should care about it," he replied. "I'm just saying that being married doesn't mean you stop drawing attention. Some men like married women. They see them as the ultimate conquest."

"Well, there no chance of that happening," she said firmly.

"Of course not," he agreed. "But then, I wouldn't know. I just think it would be a nice ego boost to be admired every once in a while, that's all."

She quickly popped a cherry tomato into her mouth.

"Don't get me wrong, relationships are far more fulfilling, but we all can't have what you have, Anna. Some of us heathens have to just make do with purely physical encounters," he said.

She nodded slowly.

"On the other hand, I suppose Mary probably regrets her most recent relationship, doesn't she?" he said.

"Most definitely, but she's doing better now. Ending it with Henry liberated her in a lot of ways," she said.

"I'll bet. Still, she must not be completely over him so soon? They were together for over two years," he remarked.

She blinked. "Oh, no, Mary and Henry were never actually together. That was all for show."

His mouth fell open. "What?"

She smiled and nodded. "It was for publicity. Henry probably wanted more, but Mary never liked him that way, and after the stunt he pulled last weekend, she doesn't like him at all."

"Wow," he sputtered. "I had no idea. I figured that they were being deliberately coy to raise their profiles, but I always assumed they were a couple."

"Then she played her part well if you were fooled," she said.

"I'll say," he muttered.

"Is Tony worried about the future?" she asked.

"Not as much as I am," he grumbled. "He's been through this type of thing before, not knowing whether a show will be renewed or not. He'll be paid regardless of whether the network proceeds with this season or not, so he's not too bothered. If they cancel the show after that, he'll just look for something else."

"That's a positive way of looking at it," she said.

"He's quite the optimist, actually," he said. "I, on the other hand, can be rather paranoid. Take this weekend. I'm already having nightmares of being stuck in traffic on the way to the venue, or some other disaster. If I can get him to the after parties without having a nervous breakdown, I'll be doing something right."

She looked at him curiously. "You don't strike me as the nervous type."

"I've tricked you so far then," he joked. "I plan on getting very drunk once it's all over."

"Hear, hear," she said, raising her glass to him.

He smiled and clinked glasses with her, then went back to his chicken.

 **23** **rd** **Screen Actors Guild Awards, Shrine Auditorium, Los Angeles, California, USA, January 29, 2017**

"Ah, Matthew," Henry said, smiling and nodding to him. "I was wondering when you might turn up."

"Henry," Matthew said tightly, not bothering to look at the Actor statuette that Henry was obviously holding up to show off.

"Wonderful night, isn't it?" Henry continued. "It's been such a stressful week. Coming here, being amongst my peers has been such a relief. Everyone's been so supportive, well, almost everyone."

"Bringing your mother to walk the red carpet with you was…sweet," Matthew said.

"She had a wonderful time, but she had to go back to the hotel. She needed to rest," Henry explained.

"I'm sure," Matthew said curtly. "Good night, Henry."

"You know, it's such a shame about Mary," Henry called, stopping Matthew from making his escape. "Three times a loser. I do hope next year things work out for her. After all, it might be her last chance."

Matthew glared at him, a retort on the tip of his tongue. Taking in Henry's smug expression, he took a deep breath and walked away, resisting the urge to go back and punch the arrogant bastard in the face, but only just.

* * *

"I was going to tell you that you were robbed tonight."

Mary looked up and arched her eyebrow at Tony as he came to her side, a lopsided smile on his face.

"But?" she asked.

"But I expect that you've already heard that about a thousand times too many tonight, so I brought you this instead," he told her, presenting her with a Martini glass.

She smiled and took the glass from him, raising it before taking a long sip.

"Lychee," she said, looking at the glass and nodding in satisfaction. "You remembered."

"I remember everything," he said, still smiling.

The familiar alarm bells rang in her addled head, loud enough that even the alcohol couldn't silence them.

"And where is dear Mabel tonight?" she asked, looking at him pointedly.

He chuckled and nodded. "She's back in London. _Oppenheimer_ is into its second block of dates and she couldn't make it. She just texted me, actually. Told me to pass along her congratulations to you."

"I'll bet she did," she said, taking another sip.

"I know it's petty to say, but I was rather annoyed when Henry won," he stated.

"You weren't the only one," she mumbled. "Anyway, it's done, and there's no point dwelling on it. Hopefully the show continues, with or without him, it doesn't matter, so long as it does."

"The two of you have done a wonderful job of being cordial tonight," he noted.

"We've mainly avoided each other, which is best for all involved," she said. "He'd just brag and I'd scratch his eyes out. It wouldn't do anyone any good."

"It would feel good, though, I imagine," he said.

She smiled. "It would be glorious."

"What time is your flight back tomorrow?" he asked. "I'm on Air Canada at 1:55."

"Oh, I'm not going back just yet," she said. "I blocked off this week to do promotional interviews for _Shattered_ , so I'm staying over for a few days. I'll head back around Wednesday, although if we're still in limbo by then, I might just stay here and enjoy the sun."

"They have to reach a decision soon. We've already lost a week of shooting," he said, shaking his head.

"No one knows," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "You've seen the network executives here. They're all smiles and compliments, but no hints as to which way they're leaning."

"Well, here's hoping," he said.

"You'll be all right, Tony," she said. "You'll be paid in full and I would be shocked if you didn't line something else up straight away."

"That's all true, but we wouldn't get to work together, which is one the reasons I came over in the first place," he said, looking at her playfully.

"Well, let that be a lesson to you," she said easily, finishing her drink. "Don't count on such things playing out the way you want. I know I don't."

* * *

"There you are," Anna said, smiling as she found Green by the bar.

"Hi," he said warmly, leaning down to give her a hug and kiss her cheek. "Sorry that Mary didn't win…again."

She sighed and shook her head. "I thought that at the very least the show would win for Best Ensemble, which would have got her a trophy. It's just crazy to see Henry as the only winner. The show's not just about him."

"Tonight has been surreal on many levels," he noted, smiling at her. He took in her hair, pulled back and straightened to fall down past her shoulders, the strapless designer dress showing off just a hint of cleavage. "Can I get you a drink?"

She shook her head. "I'm actually on my way out. I just wanted to find you and make sure you got through the night. You know, since you become nervous so easily."

He laughed. "I survived. Thanks for checking up on me. Where are you off to? Another party?"

"Sort of," she said, smiling mysteriously. "I'm escaping with Alex. He has something planned, but won't tell me what."

"Ah, well, enjoy," he said tightly, leaning over and hugging her again. "Good night, Anna."

"Good night," she said cheerfully giving him a hug before releasing him and leaving.

He watched her go, his eyes narrowing as a frown crossed his brow. Waving the bartender over, he ordered a double shot of vodka straight and took his phone out of his pocket.

* * *

Mary kissed Anna and wished her goodnight, smiling as Alex whisked her away. Despite the disappointment of losing her category earlier in the evening, she was remarkably relaxed. The food and drinks had helped, as had dancing for the past hour, but it was more the freedom she felt tonight. Arriving by herself and walking the red carpet with just Anna following in the background, not having to kiss Henry when his name was called, and getting to now mingle and do as she pleased at the after-parties felt wonderful and liberating. The entertainment media was smart enough not to pry or ask her any difficult questions, and though she felt anxious when she ran into various network and studio executives, she handled it all in stride, giving out her usual array of smiles and hugs, acting as though she didn't have a care in the world.

She smiled as she weaved through the crowd and made her way towards Matthew. Yes, he had something to do with her good mood, she supposed.

It wasn't as though much had changed. She didn't feel comfortable holding his hand or standing too close to him, lest they be caught out. The media was following her every move, everyone trying to be the first to grab the next big headline. _'Mary Crawley moves on from Henry Talbot with hot Armani model!'_ She smiled at the very idea. He wouldn't enjoy being referred to as her rebound boy-toy, at least not without getting something in return from her, anyway.

Still, this party was a bit of a milestone for them. She could spend real time with him, just chatting and laughing, appearing as though they were just good friends. Aunt Rosamund kept imploring her to circulate and schmooze, which she did, but it felt good to just hang out with Matthew and not feel pressured to leave him after some arbitrary amount of time.

"Hello, darling," he said, smiling at her as she reached him. He was standing with Gwen, Sophie and a few other people she knew. He had made an effort to walk around and socialize, mainly with Alex at his side. Now that his best friend had left, he predictably stayed with who he knew. She smirked at how normal he was, how little he cared for the game, the business, the need to promote oneself at events like this. In a room full of narcissists and the people who kowtowed to them, the fact that he was so self-aware and at ease in his own skin made him so very attractive. Looking particularly delicious tonight didn't hurt either. Armani had taken care of him from head to toe, and the results were spectacular.

"How are you holding up?" she asked, glancing over at Gwen and Sophie, who had moved on to other conversations. "Not too bored, I hope?"

"Not now," he said, nodding to her. "How are you? Done your rounds?"

"For now," she said plainly. "I haven't found out anything, not that I expected to. Henry's moved on to another party, thank God."

He laughed knowingly. "No wonder the air seems cleaner all of a sudden. So, what's your next destination, my Lady?"

She gave him a playful smirk. "Back to the dance floor. Care to join me?"

His eyes brightened. She laughed.

He followed her eagerly as she led the way through the crowd.

 **Griffith Observatory, Mount Hollywood, Griffith Park, Los Angeles, California, January 29, 2017**

"Babes, where are we going?" Anna demanded, frowning at her husband, which was difficult considering she was blindfolded.

"You'll see," he said, his voice light and playful as he patted her thigh.

She muttered another curse in annoyance, her hand covering his and keeping it on her leg. When they left the party, he escorted her to the waiting Mercedes saloon car, the driver holding the door for them as they ducked into the backseat. As the car wound its way through downtown Los Angeles, her questions on where he was taking her were met with a mysterious smile and a black piece of silk. She refused to wear it at first, wondering what he was up to, but when he teasingly threatened to call the whole thing off, she gave in. The car windows were tinted so dark that she could barely see outside anyway. Besides, it wasn't as if this was the first time she had ever worn a blindfold for him.

That was an hour ago, or so it seemed, and she had sat impatiently the entire time. She wondered if he hadn't deliberately told the driver to take a circuitous route to disorient her. It was the kind of frustrating trick he would pull, get her annoyed before revealing what he had planned. Still, she kept quiet, noticing how the car seemed to turn and tilt as they went.

The car came to a stop and she waited, wondering if this was just a pause at a traffic light or their actual destination. She heard a door open, and she turned her head, trying to discern what was going on.

"Hang on, love," he said, leaning over and kissing her cheek. "It's almost ready."

"What's almost ready?" she asked, turning towards him.

"Your surprise," he replied, his voice filled with childlike enthusiasm. He kissed her and she let him, slipping her tongue into his mouth as her hands reached up to take a hold of his face. Something about being denied her eyesight made the rest of her senses sharper, it seemed. She could smell his scent – a blend of cologne and sweat that she always found strangely irresistible – and his smooth skin beneath her fingers felt warm and soft. His mouth and tongue tasted slightly spicy, and she hummed in pleasure when he pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her just the way she liked. She almost didn't care what the surprise was. He could just have her in the car if he wanted.

"This way, love," he said, giving her one last peck before pulling away and taking her hand, helping her from the car.

A cold breeze hit her stockinged legs the moment she was outside. Los Angeles was a bit chilly at night in winter, but this was even colder than she expected. She was about to protest when she felt a soft blanket wrapped across her shoulders and Alex's arms around her. She walked in the direction that he guided her, her heels clicking off what felt like pavement. Intrigued, she didn't bother asking any questions, just going where he led. She was about to say something when he made her climb stairs blindfolded, but she just went along with it, not wanting to spoil the mood when he obviously had gone to a lot of effort.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice smooth and deep in her ear. She nodded, biting her lower lip in anticipation.

The blindfold came off and she had to blink to adjust to having the use of her eyes back. Her mouth fell open and she gasped as the bright lights of the city stretched out below her, a tapestry of coloured lines weaving into the distance. There was more of a haze over everything here compared to Toronto and London, even at night, but it was still a wonderful view.

"God, it's beautiful," she whispered, smiling as she recognized various landmarks.

"It is," he said, kissing the top of her head and gently taking hold of her shoulders. "Look over here, love."

She let him turn her around and gasped again when he pointed her in the right direction. The towering 'Hollywood' sign stood up the hill in the distance, lit up and bright. Looking around to get her bearings, she noticed that they were on top of the roof of a large white building.

"Is this?" she began.

"Griffith Observatory," he declared, taking her hand and leading her over to a conveniently placed couch covered in cushions and blankets. There were heat lamps and candles set up around it, and a small table holding a picnic basket.

"Babes!" she exclaimed, laughing as he led her over to the couch and had her sit down. "What is all this?"

"A bit of a late night snack," he said, smiling as he took out a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and a large tray of strawberries with chocolate sauce.

"You are unbelievable," she remarked, shaking her head as he sat down and handed her a flute glass. Removing the cork, he poured them each a decent amount, then turned and smiled at her.

"A toast…to my beautiful wife," he said.

She grinned, clinking glasses with him and taking a sip. The bubbly tasted sweet and crisp, and she laughed as he fed her a strawberry dipped in chocolate. Placing the tray next to him, he leaned back against the cushions, smiling at her invitingly. She laughed, removed her heels and snuggled against him, stretching her legs out next to his. He threw two of the blankets over them, holding her close with one arm as he reached for another strawberry.

"This is amazing, babes. Thank you so much," she said, marvelling at the view. She could see all of Los Angeles, and looking up, she could make out plenty of stars against the black sky. The heat lamps and blankets easily kept her warm, and it was so quiet and peaceful up here, as though the entire park was theirs.

He kissed the top of her head and fed her another strawberry.

"How did you manage this? The park can't be open all night," she asked.

"The park closes at 10, usually," he said. "I may have called in a favour or two to let us come up here after hours."

She laughed. "Or made a sizable donation or two?"

"I'm not saying I did, I'm not saying I didn't. But whatever I did, it's been totally worth it," he said.

She turned in his hold, raising her head and looking down at him. Running her fingers along his cheek, she smiled playfully. "And what about the fact that alcohol isn't permitted in the park, or that picnicking on the Observatory roof isn't allowed either?"

"I won't tell anyone if you don't, love," he said, raising his eyebrows.

She giggled and kissed him quickly. "And here I thought I had married a straitlaced, law-abiding citizen. It seems you're a bit of a rebel."

"Only for a worthy cause," he said, kissing her again.

"Who were all those people you were talking to at the party?" she asked, tracing his mouth with her finger. "Some powerbrokers?"

He nodded and kissed her finger. "Studio heads and ad executives, mainly. I met Jennifer Lawrence."

She blinked. "Oh. She's gorgeous."

"She's okay," he said lightly. "She's quite funny, actually. Not much of a filter."

"Hmm," she said, playing with his hair. She couldn't help but picture him, dressed immaculately in his tailored suit, surrounded by beautiful actresses sent by the studios, all vying for his attention. Though he was known mainly at the executive level, the fact was that Alex controlled the money. The multi-million dollar budgets that these celebrities needed to get their films made were all facilitated through him. If any of them knew who he was and what he did, she imagined he would be quite popular, and that was before even considering he was a handsome millionaire on top of all of that.

"I love you," he said softly, smiling up at her and drawing her attention. "I love you, Anna. I love you."

She grinned. "I love you," she replied, kissing him firmly. A jolt of arousal flared inside her as he deepened the kiss and tightened his embrace. She ground her hips against him, shivering with delight as he groaned in response, his one hand moving down to cup her arse.

"It's illegal to have sex in the park, isn't it?" she breathed between kisses, her hand slipping down his firm stomach and grasping him through his trousers.

"Probably. I've never looked into it," he replied quickly, grunting when her fingers squeezed him more purposefully. "But I would expect it would count as lewd conduct."

"Lewd conduct. I like the sound of that," she said wickedly. "Why don't we have some more champagne, finish the strawberries, take a few photos together with this wonderful view, then we can go back to the hotel and engage in some completely legal lewd conduct?"

He laughed and kissed her softly. "Sounds great, love."

 **Premier Balcony Room, Four Seasons Hotel Los Angeles, Beverly Hills, California, January 29, 2017**

The doorman nodded as she passed him and went into the lobby. She didn't bother looking at the massive floral arrangements or the intricate marble tile patterns on the floor, passing through to the front desk and giving the clerk the agreed upon false name. The clerk nodded and gave her the room key, smiling and stealing a glance at her breasts as she grabbed the card and headed for the elevators. He was probably checking out her ass as she walked, but she didn't care. She probably would have been offended if he hadn't grabbed a peek. It would have meant her outfit didn't have the desired impact.

The elevator ride up was swift, the plush carpet quiet beneath her stilettos as she headed for his room. Weekends were always busy, and awards weekends especially so. There was always some big shot in from out of town who wanted to party, or one of her regulars who had a really good night and wanted to celebrate. She was usually booked months in advance, but on a hunch, she kept tonight free, and she was glad she did.

None of the other girls liked him. He was too creepy, too controlling, had way too many sick preferences, but she wasn't scared. She liked that he was so predictable, didn't care about any of his deeper issues. She wasn't his shrink and had no interest in knowing what secrets he kept. A booking with him meant she would be occupied for the night and would be paid very well. What more could a girl ask for?

Besides, she kind of liked performing for him. It was almost like preparing for a role, making sure she got the clothes, the look, the hair, everything just right.

Reaching the door, she smiled as she pressed the keycard to the lock and heard the familiar chirp in response. With this score, she would have enough for that convertible she had her eye on, as well as the trip to Barcelona she had been planning. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped inside. Showtime.

"Hi," she called, grinning as she came over and gave him a hug. "Welcome back."

He kissed her cheek and smiled before going over to the bar and getting their drinks. Passing her the requested vodka and tonic, he sipped his bourbon, his eyes moving up and down her body, pleased with what he saw.

"You look beautiful," he said, nodding with approval. "You always do."

"Thank you," she said, sipping her drink. She turned around and went over to the desk against one wall. Putting her glass down, she picked up the envelope and slipped it into her purse. Judging by the weight, he had given her a generous tip. He always gave her a good tip because she did as she was told. She smiled. She would be strolling on Las Ramblas by March.

"Well, I've been looking forward to this all day," she said, changing her voice to an English accent. She went over and stood before him, bowing her head a bit and glancing up at him with a playful smile. "I was so glad when you texted me. I was waiting all night to hear from you."

He took hold of her shoulders, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. "What did you tell your husband?"

"Some bullshit about having to work late," she replied easily. "He barely listened. I told you. He doesn't give me the attention I need."

He grinned at her choice of phrase, his arousal coursing through his veins. The blonde hair tied up in a tight bun, the blue eyes, the slinky dress that showed just a hint of cleavage. She had gotten it all exactly as he asked.

"Besides, I would have come over even if he had said no," she whispered, keeping her head bowed as she ran her hand up his chest. "I can't resist you, you know that."

He pulled her closer, his hand drifting down to squeeze her bottom. Even her accent was half decent.

"What do you want?" he asked thickly.

Right on cue, her one hand moved down to fondle him through his trousers while the other moved up to pull his head down towards hers. "You know what I want. Fuck me like only you can. Treat me like your dirty little slut."

He growled and spun her around, her hands reaching out to brace herself against the counter below the large mirror. With one sharp tug, he yanked her hair free, watching it tumble down to her shoulders. She gasped but did not protest as he pulled the straps of her dress down her arms, the silk falling to her feet. He pressed himself against her from behind, pulling on her hair and licking her neck. His other hand shot down between her legs, yanking her panties aside and grabbing her roughly.

"You're mine!" he grunted.

"Yes! You fucking own me!" she cried, closing her eyes and wincing from the pain but still grinding her hips against him. She moaned long and loud, just the way he liked it.

He looked at their reflection in the mirror and grinned darkly. His hands worked quickly to remove the rest of their clothing, keeping her still as he readied himself.

"Take it, Anna," he grunted, clutching her hips hard enough to leave bruises. "Fucking take it!"

She screamed and bucked against him, her eyes shut tight, her mouth hanging open. He was being extra rough with her tonight, but she didn't mind. She actually was enjoying it. Whoever this Anna was, she brought out the beast in him.

Green watched them in the mirror, his eyes wide, his teeth bared in wild glee. Her cries fed his delirium, and he pounded into her harder and faster, not stopping until with a loud yell, he pulled out and pushed her down to the floor, finishing on her face.

 **Petit Ermitage Hotel, West Hollywood, California, January 31, 2017**

"Matthew? They're ready for you," Lavinia called, waiting for him patiently at the door.

"Good luck," Natalie said, smiling at him as he got up from his chair. "Don't get nervous. The entire fate of the movie rests on your ability to be charming, but try not to think about it."

"Thanks," Matthew said, giving her a pointed glare. "And I'm not nervous. We should get a huge opening weekend just on teenage boys wanting to see Natalie Dormer in her underwear."

She cackled and clapped her hands as he left the room and followed Lavinia down the hall to the rooftop patio that they were using for the interviews. The studio had booked the entire top floor at this lovely boutique hotel to do promotion for their movie, _Shattered_. He had spent most of the morning filming behind-the-scenes featurettes and interviews that would be included on the Blu-ray release of the film. It was the first time he had a chance to watch any finished scenes from the final cut, and it seemed a bit strange to see himself onscreen. This felt real to him now, that it was actually going to happen. The movie was coming out in March and he was really going to be in it.

"How's wedding planning going?" he asked Lavinia, trying to fill the silence.

"Mum's being a bit overbearing and Dad's complaining about how much it's going to cost," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I think my parents have more guests coming than I do. Still, when you're an only child, you have to put up with such things, don't you?"

"I'd like to think that Mother won't be too fussy when my time comes, but I tend to agree with you," he admitted. "It'll be her only child's only wedding, God willing, so it's a big deal."

"Right," she said. "Now all you have to do is find a bride."

He smiled and didn't answer.

They came out into the brilliant sunshine bathing the patio, a cloudless blue sky all around them. The patio had panoramic views of the Hollywood Hills, and had a very relaxed vibe, albeit a lavish and expensive one. They walked past the saltwater pool, the garden sanctuary and down the steps to the lower deck where the cameras were all set up. Mary was sitting in a large chair, sipping a bottle of water and going over her notes on a tablet.

"There you are. Good luck," Lavinia said, motioning for him to go on ahead, then heading over to speak to some of the production staff.

Mary watched the exchange surreptitiously. She suspected that Lavinia had a thing for Matthew during filming in the summer, but then learned that she was engaged. Though she would never admit it, she did have a bit of a jealous streak when it came to him. Now that he was becoming more well-known through his Armani campaigns, she knew that his thousands of new followers included women who drooled over his photos. Once _Shattered_ came out, it would become even worse. Not only would Matthew be more popular for his strong performance, but the scene where he came out of the shower topless would become a fan favourite, she was sure.

"Hi," he said, sitting down in the chair next to hers. "How are you holding up?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," she replied, handing her tablet to Anna and smiling at him. "Are you bored yet?"

"Actually, no," he said, shaking his head. "I figure that the more of these things I'm involved in, the less likely they are to cut my scenes from the movie."

She rolled her eyes. "You're not being cut. We'd have to redo all the posters and there's not enough time for that."

He gave her a wry look.

They soon settled down and began the procession of media interviews. Their co-stars, Rick Yune and Natalie, were doing their own interviews by the bar on the other side of the rooftop. Since the film was about infidelity, the studio wanted to pair the adulterers together in interviews, which was a pleasant surprise for Matthew. Up until now, Mary, Natalie and Rick had done photos and interviews together, with him mainly in the background. Earlier in the day he had been hesitant to talk too much, giving short replies to the questions posed to him. Mary had taken him aside and told him to relax, and the rest of the morning had gone much better.

It was a skill to answer the same questions over and over again as if it was the first time being asked. Mary had mastered it, using smiles, pauses, gestures, nods and the occasional laugh to charm the interviewers. Though Matthew received a small portion of the questions given to her, he tried to keep up, knowing that the interview would play better to an audience if both of them were more into it, rather than robotically taking turns answering questions.

"Now, Matthew, whenever there's a movie about adultery, there's a lot of pressure on the cheating part of the story, right? The audience is probably wondering why the happily married woman would break her vows, so does that put any extra pressure on you to present your character in a certain way?"

Matthew stopped himself from jumping right in, and instead nodded his head slowly as if he was considering his answer.

"Well, I think there's inherently going to be pressure because, as you say, the audience will wonder why such a gorgeous, brilliant woman like Christina would even look twice at a boorish ruffian like Nico," he began, gesturing reverently towards Mary, then dismissively at himself.

She smiled and watched him continue.

"But I think what makes our movie so different is that there's a real contrast between the characters, so you can see the differences between the relationships. Nico's a very direct and honest person, and I think Christina is very drawn to that. She doesn't have to pretend with him, she can just be herself, and that's very empowering for her, I think, which is why they connect so quickly," he finished.

"Speaking of powerful, obviously a lot of attention is going to be on the first kiss between you two, and how it escalates from there. I know it's just work to you, but can you look at it objectively and say 'okay, that's a hot scene?' Do you think about it in terms of whether it conveys the kind of emotion you want, or is it just, okay, we kiss, next?"

Matthew laughed and nodded. "Well, I know I was nervous filming those scenes, because they do seem so important, kind of like the opening third of the movie is building up to this moment, and when I saw the dailies, I thought they looked quite good. It is just another scene in some ways, but you have to make sure it does come across as showing the emotional state of the characters. I know for me, I tried to imagine what he would be feeling, kissing this woman who he wants so badly and thought he could never have. It must be quite a powerful sensation for him, and that's what I tried to focus on," he said, then turned to Mary. "What about you? Were you thinking sexy thoughts?"

Mary smirked, handling his challenge in stride, though her pulse jumped a bit and she arched her eyebrow at him pointedly. "Actually, those scenes did nothing for me at all, but if they affected you, then that means I did my job, so there's that."

The interviewer laughed. Mary smiled. Matthew met her stare, undeterred, his eyes telling her exactly what he had in mind as her punishment for later on.

"What do you think of the message in the movie, Mary? Is it sort of that temptation is all around us, that it's almost unavoidable?"

Mary pursed her lips, looking away in thought before replying. "I don't think the message is necessarily that negative. The film isn't trying to say that all marriage is bad. I think the idea is that love sometimes isn't conventional and neat, and that the right person for someone isn't necessarily who society might think it is. Christina and her husband appear to be a perfect match on the outside, but they aren't really, and the cheating is more a result of that. They're already broken when they each have their affairs. What I think is really great about the story is that the other characters aren't just convenient lovers for these two. They're actual people that they have real relationships with, and that raises all sorts of interesting questions that I think people will identify with."

"What she said," Matthew echoed, nodding and pointing at Mary.

The reporter laughed and nodded, then flipped the pages of his notebook.

"All right, so Matthew, this is your biggest role in your career. Was there any kind of adjustment period for you? How did the production go for you?"

"Oh, he was a total diva, honestly," Mary interjected.

"Yeah, I was super high maintenance," he said, smirking at her and laughing. "No, it was actually all quite easy. You know, Thea really trusts her actors, she's very collaborative. For a lot of our scenes, Mary and I would come up with ideas and she was always so receptive. It was great, really. I enjoyed every second of it."

"What about you, Mary? Did you enjoy the process?"

"Yes, it was quite fun, actually," she replied, looking at Matthew and nodding. "I'd worked with Thea before back in London. She directed me in a West End play, so that was kind of neat, seeing how far we've come from then."

"And how did you think Matthew did for his first major studio role?"

She smiled at him. "Oh, he did all right."

 **Giorgio Armani Boutique, Rodeo Drive, Beverly Hills, California, USA, January 31, 2017**

"And just turn towards me, Matthew. That's it, that's it. Perfect. Hold it. That's it," the photographer called, zooming in on the watch on Matthew's wrist and snapping a series of shots. Matthew leaned on the table, trying to keep his arm as straight as possible.

Mary stood off to the side, watching on as Matthew continued with the photoshoot. Since doing a small photoshoot for Armani Code cologne in Toronto in the summer, his unexpected and unintended modelling career had taken off. The photos from that first shoot had gone viral on social media across the world, leading the executives at Giorgio Armani to sign him for a larger campaign. He wasn't utilized nearly as often as Chris Pine or Chen Kun, but he was steadily getting more work, including tonight's shoot for the new line of Emporio Armani Connected watches. It was only for a few hours and not particularly strenuous, so she decided to come along.

"Okay, we're just going to change the lighting," the photographer announced. "Let's get Matthew set up with the stainless steel first."

An assistant came forward wearing white gloves. He gingerly removed the watch from Matthew's wrist, then replaced it with a different model with a steel band.

A tall female model came out from the back of the boutique wearing a black tube top and jeans. Mary watched as they positioned her in front of the white backdrop, the hair and makeup people doing one last touch up. They called Matthew over and had him face her, placing his hand on her far shoulder so that the watch rested just above her breast. She put her arm around him so that her watch was in the foreground.

"And lean towards her Matthew. Closer. Closer. And look at her mouth. Closer. Right there," the photographer ordered as Matthew was almost kissing the other woman. She pursed her lips in a thin line and stared at the camera with a smouldering look, the photographer reeling off a series of shots as he moved around them.

Mary watched the scene before her with interest. The model was taller than her, almost as tall as Matthew. She was quite thin, Matthew's hand appearing large as he held on to her body. Her hair was a lighter shade of brown than Mary's, closer to a sandy blonde. They looked quite hot together, she had to admit.

"That could have been you up there."

She frowned and turned, looking at the photographer's assistant in confusion. She had worked with the same photographer and his staff for a Vanity Fair photoshoot last year.

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to appear casual.

"When Armani was looking for models as part of this new campaign, they went through a list of actresses that they were interested in and your name came up," she explained. "They knew that you and Matthew were starring together in _Shattered_ and they considered pairing the two of you together in their campaign to take advantage of that. It was too late to get a product placement in the film, but they thought you would look good together."

Mary turned back and looked at Matthew and the model, now locked in a tight embrace, staring at each other's open mouths.

"Why did you turn them down?" the assistant asked.

"What?" Mary asked, looking over at her again.

"You turned down the offer," the assistant said. "They got in touch with your agent and it looked promising at first, but when they explained the campaign in greater detail, your people rejected it. They said you had scheduling conflicts but would consider a campaign for the women's line in the future."

Mary struggled to keep her face placid and neutral.

"It was just bad timing," she said lightly, trying to appear unaffected. "Of course, I was grateful for the interest, but I have a lot on the go at the moment, and the last thing I would want to do is commit to Armani and be unable to put my full attention to the campaign. Their House is so important to me, I would never forgive myself if I couldn't give them my best."

The assistant smiled and nodded, accepting her answer. "Well, it's a real shame. I think the two of you would have been fantastic together."

Mary turned and looked at Matthew, her mind racing with this new information. "Yes," she agreed. "A real shame, indeed."


	3. Chapter 3

**Previously:**

 **Giorgio Armani Boutique, Rodeo Drive, Beverly Hills, California, USA, January 31, 2017**

Mary turned back and looked at Matthew and the model, now locked in a tight embrace, staring at each other's open mouths.

"Why did you turn them down?" the assistant asked.

"What?" Mary asked, looking over at her again.

"You turned down the offer," the assistant said. "They got in touch with your agent and it looked promising at first, but when they explained the campaign in greater detail, your people rejected it. They said you had scheduling conflicts but would consider a campaign for the women's line in the future."

Mary struggled to keep her face placid and neutral.

"It was just bad timing," she said lightly, trying to appear unaffected. "Of course, I was grateful for the interest, but I have a lot on the go at the moment, and the last thing I would want to do is commit to Armani and be unable to put my full attention to the campaign. Their House is so important to me, I would never forgive myself if I couldn't give them my best."

The assistant smiled and nodded, accepting her answer. "Well, it's a real shame. I think the two of you would have been fantastic together."

Mary turned and looked at Matthew, her mind racing with this new information. "Yes," she agreed. "A real shame, indeed."

 **Chapter 3:**

 **Sushi Sasabune, Beverly Hills, California, February 1, 2017**

"It's so nice to be able to see you twice in one week!" Rosamund said, smiling as she dipped her spicy salmon skin roll into the soy sauce. "The weather is horrid in New York at the moment, so the sunshine here is much more agreeable."

Mary nodded, taking a sip of her green tea. She glanced around the restaurant, the space filled with pretty young girls gabbing away with their friends, older men in expensive suits having quick business lunches and the odd tourist. Being in Los Angeles had a different feel than any other city. She couldn't help but wonder if anyone in the place was from the industry, and whether they were negotiating deals or discussing projects that she was involved in. It was so irrational to worry over such things, but with all the studios around town and constant reminders that this was where all the big deals and decisions were made, it filled her thoughts. This was the first time in years that she didn't have a project on the horizon. With the future of _Paladin_ in doubt, she didn't have a job at the moment, and dealing with uncertainty was never her forté.

She had resisted the urge to lay into Aunt Rosamund when they first came into the restaurant. Stifling her anger, she had greeted her pleasantly, as always, and made small talk while they sat down, perused the menu and ordered. Now with their meals served and their drinks refreshed, she would tell her in no uncertain terms what she thought of her meddling. She knew that Aunt Rosamund had a particular view on her career and where it should go, but to not inform her about the opportunity to be part of the Armani campaign, and to reject it without even consulting her was outrageous.

"I have wonderful news," Rosamund declared. "We've finally heard from the network."

Mary blinked and looked up, her pulse jumping at the mention of _Paladin_ and its future.

"And?" she asked carefully.

Rosamund smiled and nodded. "They've agreed to finish Season 5. You're to go back to Toronto tomorrow and resume shooting at the weekend."

Mary exhaled, not even aware that she was holding her breath. Relief swept through her as she reached for her tea again.

"What about Henry?" she asked.

"They're going to go with the backup script that they had planned," Rosamund replied. "They'll use the existing footage where they can, but they're going to have Frederick killed off early on, then shift the focus of the show to you."

"And Tony," Mary added. "The backup script calls for the two of us to do battle, and for me to become his prisoner."

"Yes, I think it will work out very well for you, show a different side, a vulnerable side. Everyone always admires Jade for how strong she is. I think it could impress a great deal of people to see her fall apart, to watch you play a woman in mourning and in distress."

Mary nodded. It wasn't the time now to question the plot of the new season. She was getting her show back and without Henry on top of that. Considering recent events, it was a victory by any measure.

"They're going to film Henry's scenes here. He won't be going back to Toronto," Rosamund said.

"That's probably for the best," Mary said slowly, contemplating what all of this meant.

"I don't know if I agree, but it's done," Rosamund said, taking a small bite of her tuna sashimi.

"Well, it's good to know where I'll be for the next while at least," Mary noted.

"You should put everything you've got into this," Rosamund advised. "They haven't said anything officially but there won't be a Season 6. Best to end things on a memorable note."

Mary nodded and used her chopsticks to pick up a slice of beef tataki.

"So we now know that you're booked through to June. I've got calls in on a few films that will be starting up in the summer. It's important we line something up for you well before the show wraps. I'm going to arrange some meetings, perhaps as early as March, try to get you sorted right away so that all the gossip about you and Henry won't have a chance to take hold," Rosamund said.

"March is the _Shattered_ premiere," Mary stated.

"Yes. I have to rearrange your schedule now that filming is back on so you can make it to New York and do the talk shows. I still don't know about London. Anna seems to think that it's possible, but I'll need to take a closer look," Rosamund said.

Mary arched her eyebrow as she reached for a cucumber roll. "Well, get it done. I've been thinking about it for months – walking the red carpet in London with Matthew – it's going to be so very memorable for us."

Rosamund frowned for a moment, then calmed herself. "Yes, I suppose he'll be there, won't he?"

"He's coming back to Toronto for the premiere, and he'll already be in New York for the American debut, so that's convenient. It will be such a relief to not have to hide anymore. I think we'll look quite smashing together," Mary said, smiling sweetly.

Rosamund watched her suspiciously. "Just remember that we want you to be the centre of attention. It's inevitable that there will be photos of the two of you together, but try not to stay on his arm the entire time."

"I'll spend as much time with him as I did with Henry, how's that?" Mary challenged.

"You know that they're completely different situations," Rosamund said drily. "Henry was a great help to you."

"Until he went and got my show cancelled," Mary noted coldly.

Rosamund rolled her eyes. "At least he had a show, and a profile worth associating with. Matthew's nice, but he's still unknown. Armani models are a dime a dozen, honestly."

"Is that why you turned down their offer for me to be in the current campaign? You thought that Armani was beneath me, did you?" Mary asked, her eyes narrowing.

Rosamund blinked in surprise. She took a sip of her tea, looking away. "And who told you that?"

"Matthew did a photoshoot last night for their new line of watches, and I went along to support him," Mary said pointedly. "Imagine my shock when I was informed that I was given the opportunity to be in the campaign with him and my agent decided to turn it down, citing scheduling conflicts?"

"Now, Mary, first you must…" Rosamund began.

"I must give you credit for your foresight," Mary said sharply. "Why would I possibly want to associate myself with one of the foremost fashion houses in the world?"

"Please. It isn't as though they offered you a full representation arrangement. It's a social media campaign, a grassroots effort. You'd be a pretty accessory, nothing more. It's not worth your time," Rosamund scoffed.

"I will be the judge of what is worth my time, thank you," Mary retorted, glaring at her aunt. "How is this any different than the Burberry campaign that I just did? The one that you said was a brilliant move? It's obvious that the only reason you turned Armani down was because I would be posing with Matthew!"

"That's precisely why I turned them down," Rosamund hissed, keeping her voice low. "Matthew has done well for himself with this small little job, but in a few months' time, he'll be forgotten. Linking yourself to him formally isn't a wise decision, but I knew you would object, which is why I chose to take the initiative."

"Linking myself to him formally?" Mary questioned. "Matthew is…" she stopped herself and glanced around, then lowered her voice. "Matthew is my boyfriend. We're together. I never should have agreed to all of that showmance nonsense, and now that it's over, I…"

"You'll what?" Rosamund interrupted. "Gallivant around in public with Matthew and have people wonder who this strange man is that Mary Crawley is spending time with? I think not."

Mary stared at her aunt with absolute consternation.

"In your personal life, you may do as you please, Mary, as much as I might disagree," Rosamund continued archly. "Who you are seen with in public, who you present to the world as being with you is as important as what dress you choose to wear, or what charities you align yourself with. All of it is designed to shine the most positive light possible upon you. You're a star, Mary. The decisions you make and the company that you keep must be worthy of one, otherwise no one will think of you that way."

"You think that being with Matthew makes me seem less than who I am?" Mary asked. "Why does he even have anything to do with it? Besides, his star is rising, even you must admit that."

"A few supporting roles in a handful of movies is hardly leading man material," Rosamund said dismissively. "He is a fine man. He has history with our family, of course, and he's a clever fellow, I'll admit that. There is nothing wrong with him, he just doesn't have that 'it' quality that we're looking for. He's not special, Mary, is all."

"And who is, in your view?" Mary demanded, perplexed as to the direction of their conversation. "Henry was supposedly special and look what happened there!"

"It is unfortunate what happened with Henry, however, if you had not insisted on keeping him at arm's length, then perhaps…" Rosamund said.

"Do not even think it," Mary threatened. "I am not the one who engaged in abhorrent behaviour. I am not the one who ruined everything. I won't take one ounce of blame for what he did."

"Fine," Rosamund said tightly. "All I am trying to say is that we shall be more diligent the next time."

Mary blinked. "The next time? And what is that supposed to mean?"

Rosamund smiled proudly. "Obviously the word is out that you are available," she explained. "I've already taken a few calls from other agents inquiring if we would be open to an arrangement with their clients, discretely, of course. There ought to be a respectable period of time where you're seen to be putting your head down and getting on with work, but in a few months' time it will be acceptable for you to resume dating again, and there are a few candidates who…"

"You want me to go through that hell all over again, after everything that just happened?" Mary asked, staring at her aunt as though she had grown three heads.

"The concept itself is still sound. It's been tried and tested for decades," Rosamund said. "We simply need to be more precise about what the expectations are on both sides, and I think it can still serve a purpose."

"And who are these gentlemen who are supposedly so wonderful?" Mary asked, shaking her head in exasperation.

"Well, since you asked," Rosamund replied, fiddling with her phone before passing it to Mary.

Mary looked over the list of names on the screen, her eyebrow arching.

"This one's an athlete, not an actor," she said.

"Yes, you'd have to learn about basketball, but I'm sure we could figure it out," Rosamund said. "Anyway, he's not the best of the bunch, in my opinion."

Mary blinked. "I thought he was gay."

"He is," Rosamund said quietly. "He needs a 'beard' as they say."

Mary rolled her eyes and passed the phone back to her aunt. "No, thank you. I vowed to stand on my own going forward, and that is what I intend to do. I won't do that to Matthew again. He doesn't deserve it."

Rosamund frowned and put her phone down. "Just try and be discrete. There's no need to make it seem that you rushed from one man into the arms of another."

Mary didn't bother answering as she continued with her meal.

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, February 6, 2017**

"Orange pekoe, splash of milk, one sugar, half a spoon of honey and a squeeze of lemon," Green declared, holding out the large paper cup towards her.

Anna looked at him suspiciously, taking the steaming drink from his hand. She lifted the lid and took a sniff of the flavour. Still frowning, she took a careful sip, then smiled slightly and looked up at him.

"Not bad," she said, nodding her head. "I might be able to train you yet, Mr. Green."

"The lady in catering wasn't too pleased with me. I went through four or five different cups before I got it even close to right," Green confessed, smiling at her. "But I didn't want to risk incurring the wrath of an Essex girl, so I kept at it. You lot can be frightening when you're angry."

She laughed and took another sip of tea. "And don't you forget it, sir."

They both turned and looked over to the set, where Mary and Tony were running through a scene before they shot it for real. Mary had some particularly fiery dialogue, and her posture was straight and rigid, her chin raised defiantly to him. Tony was more casual and relaxed, the script in his hand completed ignored as he went through his lines.

"Does he always do that? Not use his script for run-throughs?" Anna asked.

"He's very meticulous about his preparations. I've never seen anyone else work nearly as hard," Green said. "We'll do trials, he and I. We do a scene until he gets it perfectly from memory, and he even has me deliberately screw up the other characters' dialogue to try and trip him up a bit."

"That's impressive," she noted.

"I'm impressed by Mary," he replied. "Tony says she's even better than she was back in England, and he was quite taken with her back then."

Mary and Tony finished up their rehearsal and nodded to the director. The crew came forward and adjusted the lighting, the cameras and microphones, while make-up, hair and wardrobe people swarmed around the actors.

Anna checked her phone, then looked back up at the scene.

"What do you have planned for Valentine's?" Green asked, speaking softly as they watched the carnage in front of them.

"Alex and I always go out for dinner at the same restaurant. It's amazing," she answered. "Though this year is a bit of problem since Valentine's is on a Tuesday, but we'll manage."

"Why not just move it to the weekend?" he asked.

"Alex is rather strict about doing things on the actual day," she said, smirking at the thought. "Anyway, it looks like the shooting schedule is clear that night, so I should be all right. What about you?"

"Oh, nothing planned," Green said. "It's a day for couples, isn't it? I'm not currently part of one."

"I wouldn't expect that to stop you," she remarked. "Aren't there plenty of women out there looking to be wined and dined, regardless?"

"Maybe, but I don't believe in pretending when it comes to things like that," Green replied. "I'll send flowers to my mum, and might even go out for dinner, but I don't really want to be someone's stand-in boyfriend."

She turned and looked at him curiously. "You know, every time I think I have you figured out, you do something different. I would have thought that Valentine's was a prime opportunity for you, a chance to have one of your liaisons."

He laughed and shook his head, looking at her intently. "Even I can be sentimental about some things, Anna."

He turned back and watched as Mary and Tony began their scene. She looked at him for a moment before returning her gaze to the set.

* * *

"Well done, Mary. That was really good," Tony noted, taking off his jacket as they walked off the set.

"Same to you," she replied. "You've gotten better since the last time we worked together, Tony."

He laughed and passed the jacket to a wardrobe staff member. "Does that mean I was absolute rubbish before?"

"Take it however you like," she teased.

Both of their assistants came forward. Anna handed Mary a bottle of water. Green gave Tony his phone.

"Fancy a photo, Mary?" Tony called. "We can put something up to show that we're back filming, business as usual."

Mary thought about his suggestion for a second, then nodded in agreement. It was a good idea to distance themselves from Henry by putting out as much as they could about the show.

She came over to him and he put his arm around her shoulders. Green took his phone back and aimed the camera at them. Anna ducked out of the way and stood by his side, looking up at the phone screen.

"Make sure you get the set in the background so all the fans can speculate as to what's going on," Tony ordered.

Mary laughed, smiling as she looked at the camera.

"And 1…2…3," Green called. "That's quite nice."

He turned the phone towards Anna and she nodded in approval. "It is quite good," she said. "Send it to me and I'll post it on Mary's accounts."

"Thanks, Mary. See you tomorrow," Tony said, taking his phone back from Green and heading off towards his trailer.

Mary watched him go, sipping her water.

"He hasn't been nearly as bad as I feared," Anna noted, coming over to her.

"No, he hasn't," Mary said, nodding her head. "He's been a complete professional. I suppose some people do grow up after all."

She laughed knowingly as she and Anna walked away towards her trailer.

 **Holt Renfrew, Yorkville, Downtown Toronto, Canada, February 6, 2017**

Anna wandered through the floor, glancing around as she went. Designer fashions were arranged on the racks and shelves, organized into mini-boutiques according to the label. The upscale department store was busy tonight, older women in furs and designer handbags perusing the merchandise, tall statuesque girls who looked like models trying on outfits and shoes, and even teenagers who seemed to know exactly what they wanted and didn't care at all for the exorbitant prices. She tried to ignore them all as she made her way to the personal shopping counter.

"Ah, Anna! Hello! I've been waiting for you! I've got all your items set out already, right this way!"

Anna nodded politely and followed the personal shopper to the private dressing rooms. Even the personal shopper was taller than her, and had a rather large amount of shiny jewellery on.

"Here you are. If you need a different colour, or size, anything at all, just ring for me. There's bottled water and macarons on the counter, and take as long as you like."

Anna smiled and closed the door behind her. Taking a deep breath, she went over to the mirror and began unbuttoning her blouse. The clothes she had picked out over the weekend were set out for her on a clothes rack along one wall. Removing her blouse, she went over to have a look.

Even though she knew she could wear something from her existing wardrobe to Valentine's Day dinner, she wanted to get a new outfit. Alex had been traveling for work over the past few weeks and he would be back with just days to spare. They had spoken every night, and met up in Los Angeles for the SAG Awards, but that wasn't nearly enough. Their first few years of marriage had been filled with her being away following Mary to various shooting locations and spending late hours on set. Since her schedule had become more normal, it felt strange not to see him every day and fall asleep in his arms every night. She still wasn't pregnant, which continued to bother her, but she wasn't thinking of that now. She just wanted to give him a special night.

Her hand ran along the various clothes on the rack, from the delicate lingerie to the tight-fitting dark red dress with the halter neck and the flared skirt that stopped above her knees. She removed the rest of her clothes and got changed, checking her reflection in the mirror to make sure each piece fit properly. She frowned, noticing a bit too much cellulite here and there on her body, wondering if she might have gained a bit of weight from the holidays that she hadn't worked off yet. When she eventually put on her dress and slipped into the matching high heels, she took a few steps, examining the way she looked in the mirror from numerous angles. Her mind wandered back to the parties that she and Alex went to in California, seeing those gorgeous women laughing and flirting with him. He hadn't encouraged them at all, of course, but just the sight of them circling around him made her blood boil.

"Maybe he'd like a different colour?" she mused, unsure as to whether to go ahead with these clothes or look for something else.

 **Academy Restaurant, Brooklyn, New York, USA, February 8, 2017**

Matthew looked at his phone and frowned, scrolling through the various images on his Instagram. Ever since wrapping on _Shattered_ , he had reluctantly decided that he needed to be more proactive on social media, to try and promote himself a bit more. He was never going to be as prolific in his posting as Mary, who had Anna to assist her, but he needed to devote more time to it, share more of what he was working on and get his name out there. Thanks to the Armani campaign, his followers had been growing steadily, and being able to share that he would be in _Shattered_ , _Black Panther_ and _The Irishman_ gave him a rather strange sense of pride. None of these films had even been released yet, but letting the world know he was in them made him feel as though he was a legitimate actor, that he had real credentials to his name now.

"Hey. What's going on?" Tom asked, sliding into the other side of the booth.

"Nothing. Mary's just posted another photo from the set," Matthew replied, sighing. He reached over and shook his friend's hand in greeting.

"And that's a problem, is it?" Tom asked, frowning in confusion.

"No, not at all, it's normal, actually. She does it quite a bit. Trying to keep her fans updated on what she's doing, you know," Matthew explained.

"All right," Tom said slowly, looking at Matthew strangely.

"It's just that she's been following all these new cast members and crew from _Paladin_ ," Matthew continued unprompted. "She never used to interact with them so much off set, but I suppose now that she's filming the last season, she wants to keep track of everything, savour every moment."

"That sounds quite sentimental, which doesn't sound like Mary at all," Tom remarked.

Matthew smiled wryly. "Yeah, well, she's doing it, or Anna is under her direction, or whatever. It's mainly for promotion, rather than sentiment, but I think part of her will be sad when it's all over."

Tom took out his phone and opened his own Instagram, perplexed as to what Matthew was even talking about. He scrolled quickly over to Mary's recent posts and saw nothing amiss. Digging a little deeper, he smiled and nodded. "Ah. Now I see."

"What?" Matthew asked, frowning at him.

"Mary started following these blokes," Tom said, turning his phone around and showing it to Matthew. The Instagram account of one of the minor cast members of _Paladin_ was on the screen, most of the photos showing the man topless and working out in the gym with other cast and crew. In particular, the fact that Mary had 'liked' some of the photos was clearly visible.

"I don't care who she follows," Matthew grumbled.

"You should have seen me when Sybil started following Jonathan Rhys-Meyers on Twitter," Tom huffed. "I was in a bad mood for a full week. She had to pick an Irishman, right?"

Matthew laughed and put his phone down. He shook his head and covered his face with his hands for a moment.

"What the hell is wrong with me, Tom?" he moaned.

"Sounds to me like you're developing a bit of an ego," Tom joked.

"God, I hope not," Matthew played along, dropping his hands down. "What actor has one of those?"

They both laughed.

"What'll it be, fellas?" the waitress asked, coming over and smiling at Matthew.

Matthew pointed at Tom.

"Chicken noodle soup, fried egg sandwich, coffee," Tom ordered.

"And you, sweetheart?" the waitress asked Matthew.

"3 egg white wrap with spinach, and a water, thanks," Matthew ordered.

The waitress repeated their order and took off.

"Look, mate, I get it. You don't want to be that guy. Okay. That doesn't mean you're not going to get jealous, or feel a bit put out every once in a while. Mary's…Mary…you know that," Tom said sympathetically.

"Yeah, I know," Matthew said resignedly. "I know none of it means anything. I just wish she wouldn't do it. I hate that she does it, and I hate that I hate that she does it."

Tom smiled and shook his head.

"I'm supposed to be more secure than this," Matthew complained. "I'm not supposed to worry about men who want photos with her, or what she does with her cast mates, or that she follows blokes on social media. None of it should be affecting me."

"What would Mary do if you started following and liking all these models and actresses that you work with?" Tom asked.

"She'd be furious, obviously," Matthew replied easily.

"Exactly. You're a pair. She's allowed to be furious if you do it, and when she does it, you have to just smile and bear it. Welcome to love, mate," Tom said, smiling at him.

Matthew looked at him pointedly. "Thanks. That helps."

Tom laughed and nodded. "Just do what you need to do and don't linger on social media. Nothing good ever comes from it. Don't worry yourself over being jealous. It's stupid, and irrational, and men and women do it all the time. It means you're human, Matthew. It means you have a temper. Nothing more. Anyway, how's filming going?"

"Really well. Really nerve-wracking," Matthew said. "I keep dreading that I'll fuck up, or they'll just think I don't know what I'm doing. You know, before we even started, Bob gave everyone a bottle of wine with a really nice note? I'm working with some legends, really. It's pretty intimidating."

"You must be doing something right if you're allowed to call him 'Bob'," Tom noted.

Matthew smiled.

"Here you go, boys," the waitress announced, bringing their food over and setting it out on the table before them. "Enjoy."

"This place is fast," Matthew said, reaching for the ketchup bottle.

"I told you. We love it here," Tom said. "What are you doing for Valentine's, by the way?"

"Working, sadly. I can't go back up because it's on a Tuesday, and Mary's working too. We'll just talk," Matthew said.

"That sucks," Tom said.

"And you? Candlelight and roses, yeah?" Matthew asked, smirking at him.

"Hey, whatever works," Tom shot back. "Sybil thinks it would be romantic if we conceived on Valentine's so I've been popping vitamins all week."

Matthew laughed and shook his head.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned that. It's just been all I can think about lately," Tom apologized.

"No worries. She tells me far worse," Matthew said warmly, smiling at Tom's shocked expression. "I'm pulling for you. We all are."

"Never thought I'd be the one to give Lord Grantham a grandson," Tom said, shaking his head.

"Well it isn't as though he'll be able to inherit the Earldom so I'm sure the fact he'll be half-Irish won't bother anyone," Matthew said.

"Thanks," Tom said drily. "Seeing how we might have the baby in England, they'll be seeing plenty of their grandchild."

Matthew smiled knowingly. "Sybil still wants to move back?"

Tom shrugged his shoulders. "I wouldn't mind it myself, but finding jobs could be a challenge. This place has just gotten even stranger these past few months. I used to have a whole list of reasons why I would rather live here than in London, but none of them really apply anymore."

"Well, I'll be sorry to see you go, if you go," Matthew said. "It's been fun being able to see the two of you so easily."

Tom nodded in agreement. "Now tell me, what's Pacino like?"

 **Office of Alexander Lewis, Bay Street, Downtown Toronto, February 10, 2017**

Alex frowned as he typed away on his computer, switching from one screen to another, glancing at the different figures. He took a deep breath, then reached for the phone on his desk, only to stop when his assistant, Mrs. Chen, came walking into his office carrying a stack of folders.

"Contracts. Projections. Budgets," she announced, placing each folder down in front of him.

"Thanks," he said, opening one of the folders and going through the numbers on the first page.

"It's Friday," she said.

"Yes, it is," he agreed distractedly.

"Valentine's Day is Tuesday," she continued.

"Yes, it is," he repeated. "The orders went in, no?"

"The orders are waiting for you to approve," she said patiently.

He blinked and looked up. "Fuck."

She frowned and shook her head at him.

"Sorry," he apologized, turning to his monitors and opening his email. "Didn't I just pick the same arrangement as last year?"

"You never pick the same arrangement twice," she said, still frowning at him. "What's wrong with you?"

"I…I just have a lot going on. The Warner Bros. deal might be off. They're having problems with the budget," he muttered, clicking around the different options that his florist had sent over.

She reached over and picked up the folders from his desk.

"What are you doing with those?" he asked, looking up at her in surprise.

"Wife first. Work later," she ordered, giving him a stern look.

He sighed and nodded, then went back to his monitors.

 **Pinewood Toronto Studios, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, February 14, 2017**

Mary came into the hair and makeup trailer and blinked in surprise. Large vases filled with red roses were placed on the counters, and each of the staff members were smiling and laughing as they went about their work. Smiling knowingly, she went over and sat down at her usual chair as her assigned artists began brushing out her hair.

"My, everyone seems to have some rather appreciative admirers," Mary noted.

They all laughed. "Aren't they just gorgeous, though? They must have cost a fortune!"

"They're quite nice. You all must be keeping your men very happy," Mary teased.

One of the other artists blushed and laughed. "Oh no, Mary, these are all from Tony."

Mary's eyes widened in surprise. "From Tony?"

"Yes. He bought roses for all the women on the production. Mr. Green was going around delivering them this morning, and with such a lovely card."

The artist passed a card to Mary and she read it quickly.

"Many thanks for all that you do. Happy Valentine's Day. Tony Foyle..." Mary read. "Well that's sweet."

The staff continued to gush about Tony's generosity as Mary stared straight ahead at the mirror, sitting still while her hair and make-up were done ahead of the coming scene.

* * *

"I think it's high time that we come to an understanding, Empress Jade, don't you? Your troops are in disarray. Your people are suffering. Your Emperor is dead. Is your pride so important to you that you would prolong their pain just for your own ego?"

Mary glared at Tony, head held high, eyes blazing. The camera panned down to her wrists, bound and tied together, then lifted back up to her furious expression.

"What are you proposing, Lord Sunder?" she asked.

He smiled devilishly. "A simple ransom. You for them. I shall swear that no harm shall befall your people and that your troops will be allowed to go back to their homes so long as they surrender their arms. Together, we will rule over these lands and I will permit you a voice on all matters."

She frowned. "Rule? With you?"

"At my side, yes," he confirmed. "I will give you more than Frederick ever did."

"And cut! That's great, everyone. Let's break for half an hour!" the director called.

The wardrobe people came forward and removed the bonds from Mary's hands and helped her and Tony take off their armour. Once freed from her burden, she took a bottle of water from Anna. She then followed Tony to the monitors to watch the playback.

"You seemed to enjoy that," she noted, smiling at him.

"Spewing such vitriol is something I would never be able to get away with in real life," he said, smirking at her. "Yes, I enjoyed it."

She laughed in understanding, picturing what Mabel's reaction would be if Tony tried to assert himself. They finished watching he playback and headed off towards catering.

"So, should I feel insulted that I wasn't considered worthy of receiving flowers from you?" she asked pointedly, arching her eyebrow at him. "Everyone else got some."

He laughed. "Your flowers are in your trailer," he replied. "I didn't want to bring them to you in person because I didn't know how you would feel about it. I know you've been through a lot lately, and Valentine's Day isn't always enjoyable for all women, so I didn't want to make a production out of it."

She nodded. "Well, thank you. I'm not one to have heart palpitations just because it's Valentine's, but I do appreciate the gesture. I don't know how Mabel will appreciate you passing out dozens of roses to numerous women today."

"She has nothing to worry about," he said, smiling. "I had her present delivered this morning."

"Smart man," she said.

"Well, I suppose if you don't have a special someone to celebrate today with, I'll have to do," he said, motioning towards the buffet spread. "Can I interest you in a Valentine's Day salad?"

She laughed and nodded, following him to join the line.

 **Scaramouche Restaurant, Toronto, Canada, February 14, 2017**

The valet helped Anna out of the Land Rover and on to the pavement. Alex came around and took her hand, smiling at her as they went into the restaurant. Their coats were taken and a hostess greeted them by name before leading them to their usual table by the window with a gorgeous view that stretched down the hill to downtown Toronto in the distance. The CN Tower was lit up in red, the bright lights of the surrounding skyscrapers glowing beneath the dark sky.

Anna smiled as Alex walked ahead and held her seat out for her. She sat down and accepted the napkin from the hostess as Alex sat down across from her. The restaurant had an older clientele, and a decidedly richer one as well, being one of the more expensive places in the city. The room was full of couples who had been married for decades, and that always filled Anna with a soothing warmth. These weren't the flashy big spenders and their trophy girlfriends that they saw at other restaurants. These weren't the obnoxious lotharios out trying to impress women with an expensive meal. This was old love, time tested and strong, and as her husband took her hand and looked at her adoringly, she felt far more confident than she had in weeks.

"That dress is gorgeous, love," he said, beaming at her.

"Yes, you mentioned that already," she said, smiling back at him and squeezing his hand. "I'm glad you like it. I bought it just for you."

He smiled and nodded, taking in her ensemble once again, the dark red dress that showed off her shoulders and back, the playful jewelled headband across her forehead that resembled something from another era. It had been a rough few days for him, traveling across Europe meeting with clients and movie studio executives. He was on the verge of a huge deal that would hopefully set him up so he could take most of next year off to be at home with Anna and the baby. Though he hadn't discussed it with her, he didn't want her to go through parenting alone. He was determined to shut down for a few months, be with her every step of the way. The fact that they weren't pregnant yet didn't bother him. In fact, it helped a little bit. The additional time would hopefully help him close a few more deals and make some more money to fund his plans.

Tonight, though, as he looked at Anna across the table and enjoyed being out with her, all thoughts of the future and the stress he was putting on himself faded away.

"They didn't bring us any menus," she noted, looking at the table searchingly.

"Oh, we don't need menus tonight," he said.

She smiled and shook her head at him. "You already ordered for us, did you?"

"I just put together a bit of a tasting menu, and I think you'll enjoy it," he said confidently.

"Well, we shall see about that," she teased. "I'll let you have control of the dinner, but when we get home, babes, you do what I say."

He swallowed at her playful look, his pulse jumping.

"Deal," he said eagerly.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, February 14, 2017**

Mary nodded to the driver and got out of the car, ducking her head as she walked briskly into the building. Though Henry's scandal was weeks old, there were still paparazzi who showed up to stalk her movements. They weren't numerous enough to bother her, but obviously they had come out tonight to see if she had any plans for Valentine's Day.

If they only knew.

She did feel a bit sad that Matthew wasn't here with her. Last week, she had debated whether to fly down to New York to be with him tonight, but the shooting schedule had gotten even worse lately, with her on the call list every day. Matthew's hours were a bit more flexible since he wasn't needed on set every day, but with flights in and out of La Guardia always notoriously delayed, he didn't want to risk not being able to get back on time. Besides, even when he wasn't required on set, he still went in just to watch the others. The way he spoke about Scorsese, De Niro, Pacino and the rest of them, he was having an absolute blast just being around them.

"Evening, Lady Mary," the concierge called, smiling and waving to her.

"Good evening, Clarence," she replied, smiling at him.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he said.

She stopped and went over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, patting his face with her gloved hand. "Happy Valentine's Day, Clarence. Maybe one of the cameras caught that and we'll be all over the tabloids tomorrow."

Clarence chuckled. "One can dream," he said.

Mary laughed and continued on to the elevator.

Clarence watched her go and turned back to his monitors, a wide grin on his face.

Mary emerged from the elevator on to her floor and walked down the hall to her apartment. Normally she didn't put much value in holidays like these, but seeing numerous couples out and about during the drive home had made her feel a bit wistful. This was the first Valentine's Day since she and Matthew got back together in the summer. He used to go all-out years ago back when they lived in London. It was a day she always looked forward to, and even though they were together and would have a wonderful video chat tonight, it wasn't the same.

She sighed and opened the door to her apartment, going inside and kicking her shoes off of her tired feet. Padding into the living room, she stopped dead in her tracks.

The room was filled with balloons, dozens of them. There were reds and pinks, blues and purples, tied together in huge bunches and swaying back and forth. A gorgeous and massive floral arrangement of peonies and calla lilies sat in a vase on the coffee table, next to a rather large box wrapped in a red ribbon. She laughed incredulously as she wandered into the room and slowly turned around, taking in the wonderful perfume of the flowers and vibrant colours of the balloons.

"Oh Matthew," she said happily, shaking her head and taking out her phone to capture the scene.

 **The Residences of Maple Leaf Square, Downtown Toronto, Canada, February 14, 2017**

"Thank you, dear. They're lovely," Mabel said, turning her head to show Tony the diamond earrings that he'd bought her.

"I'm glad that you like them. They suit you," he said, nodding as he looked at his tablet screen.

"How was filming today?" she asked lightly.

"Quite tiring. We're in a bit of a rush to be caught up, to say nothing for having to learn the new script as we go along, but it's going well in spite of all of that, and not having Henry on set is a Godsend," he said, smirking at that last comment.

She laughed and nodded in understanding. "And how is our sweet Mary?"

He smiled. "Warming to me a bit more," he reported. "I think she was expecting me to flirt and be rather unprofessional."

"Of course she was. She expects all men to fall at her feet," she said, frowning. "It's exactly as I told you. Act as though you aren't interested in her and that will draw her interest. She can't stand the thought of a man not wanting her."

"Well, it's working so far. Are we still on schedule?" he asked.

"Perfectly. Once she's back in London, the trap will be sprung," she said, smiling wickedly.

He shook his head and smirked. "Wonderful. Well, it's late, dear. Get some sleep. Happy Valentine's Day."

"Happy Valentine's Day," she replied, nodding to him and hanging up the call.

He chuckled as he picked up the tablet and carried it down the hall and into the bedroom, going over and easing under the covers. At times like these, when Mabel was so confident in her machinations, he almost didn't regret going through the pain of Mary's rejection years ago. He looked up at the painting of _Andromeda_ hanging on the far wall. He smiled at the imagery, the woman, naked and chained to a rock, the sea monster nipping at her feet, about to come forth to claim her. That was one thing he could count on Green for – knowing what furnishings would be to his taste.

He settled back against the pillows and got comfortable. Between now and March he just needed to focus on the work, knowing Mabel had everything under control for Mary's return to England. A knowing smirk crossed his lips as he swiped his finger across the tablet screen, opening his private collection of photos of Mary.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, February 14, 2017**

The streets were clear as Alex drove the Range Rover down Yonge Street and turned into their quiet neighbourhood. His right hand was on Anna's thigh, his eyes on the road as he steered the car towards home.

She had been quiet ever since they left the restaurant, her mind working as she went over all of her plans. Dinner had been delicious. They had chatted the entire time, about work, about the news, even about sports. He had sent flowers to both his mother and her Mum and called them both earlier in the day, as he always did. Even though they agreed not to exchange gifts until later, he brought out hers during the meal anyway. The diamond necklace was absolutely exquisite and she had spent the rest of the meal playing with it with her fingers without even realizing it. The evening had gone perfectly.

Then he went to the washroom before dessert and everything had changed. First, she noticed a few ladies eyeing him as he walked past, nothing overt, but still enough to grab her attention. That wasn't so bad. He didn't notice, and it wasn't as though she was put out that other women found her husband attractive. But then the second seating had begun, and one couple in particular caught her eye. They were about the same age as she and Alex, maybe a few years older. The woman was very pregnant, at least six months along by the looks of it. She was glowing, in exactly the way people always stupidly gushed about pregnant women glowing. Her husband was flush with pride, his eyes bright, his smile wide, his hand gently at her back, helping her along as they went to their table. They looked so very happy, so in love, eager with anticipation for what was to come. Anna couldn't take her eyes off of them, and her stomach twisted into knots.

She finally looked away, her pulse racing and her breathing coming in short gasps. She tried to remember Alex's soothing, loving words, all the times he told her how much he loved her, how he would stay with her through anything, how even if they didn't have children, that wouldn't change a thing, but it was useless. Her mind played tricks on her, and she couldn't stop the horrible visions from coming. Alex could have any woman he wanted. He could find some gorgeous young thing with a perfect body who could give him children right on the first try. She pictured him with any of the actresses, models, and rich women she saw routinely, happy and chasing after a beautiful baby boy with dark hair and green eyes. She had to take off to the washroom, where she went into a stall and sobbed until her breathing returned to normal. After washing her face and fixing her make-up, she went back to the table, where Alex was waiting for her, not a clue as to anything being amiss.

Now, as they approached their house, she kept calm, tried to forget her demons.

"So, I seem to recall you said you would take over once we got home?" he asked lightly, smiling at her.

"That's right," she said, steadying her voice, as he pulled into the driveway and parked the car in the garage. "What I say goes."

They got out of the car and she took his hand, leading him into the house. They stowed their coats and boots away and she led him upstairs.

"I like it so far," he said cheekily.

She gave him a flirty smile and concentrated on what was to happen next. Maybe things would fall apart in the future if she couldn't have children. Who knew? But for tonight, they were together, so she hung on to that for all she was worth.

He followed her into the bedroom. She smiled as she led him to the foot of the bed and had him sit down.

"No touching until I tell you that you can," she said sultrily. "Understand?"

He nodded, looking up at her with a dumb smile.

"Good," she said. Smirking, she leaned over and pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders and down his arms. He reached for her hips.

"No touching!" she scolded him, slapping his hands back down.

He laughed and sat still as she undid his tie and pulled it off of him, then unbuttoned his dress shirt and cuffs and removed that as well. His tank top, belt, trousers and socks followed, leaving him only in his boxer briefs.

"Hands," she ordered.

He looked at her curiously, but brought his hands up.

She shook her head. "Behind your back."

He frowned for a moment, then brought his hands behind him.

She took his tie and came up on to the bed to tie his hands together. Stepping away from him, she surveyed her work, pleased with what she saw.

"No touching, remember," she reminded him, standing before him and putting her hand on his shoulder.

He pouted in protest but remained still.

Smiling at him, she took out her phone and fiddled with it for a moment, then pressed her finger to the screen before setting it down on the bed.

His eyes went wide as the first notes of the song played and he watched her raise her hands and pull the halter of her dress over her head and down her front.

 _'Let's take our time tonight…above us all the stars are watching…'_

She felt nervous, worried, and quite a bit embarrassed as she lowered the dress down her body and danced to the slow song. This wasn't the kind of thing she did. She wasn't sexy and alluring, or even coordinated enough for some of these moves. But he was watching her, looking at her with such open admiration, and desire, and love. He made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, gave her his full attention, and so she kept going.

 _'Take it off for me, for me, for me, for me now…'_

She stepped out of her dress and turned around, sitting on his lap and grinding her hips against him. Turning to face him, she kissed his cheek, then moved down and swiped her tongue across his neck, smiling as she heard him groan and try to move, to draw her closer to him. Straddling his legs, she pressed her bare breasts against him, feeling his clear arousal beneath her.

 _'Let's just kiss 'till we're naked…'_

He grunted, watching as she slid down his body, deftly removing his boxers and kneeling before him. A choked gasp flew out of him as she took him into her mouth, her hands massaging his thighs. Unable to use his hands, he could only stare while she drove him crazy with her lips and tongue.

She moaned around him, feeling wicked and powerful from his response to what she was doing. Moving off of him, she stroked him slowly as she kissed her way up his hard abs, his firm chest and finally to his eager mouth, kissing him sloppily as he struggled to break his hands free.

"No touching," she teased, smiling in between kisses.

"God, love, please," he begged.

"Do you want to touch me, babes?" she asked lightly.

"Yes!" he growled.

"Do you want to pin me down to this bed and fuck me?" she asked, squeezing him for emphasis.

"Fuck, yes!" he grunted.

"Well, if you can't get your hands free, you can't fuck me," she taunted him licking his face and giving him one last stroke before she lifted off of him and crawled on to the bed.

He watched her move on her hands and knees, her thong and stockings enticing him, flaring his already raging arousal. The tie around his wrists had been a birthday present from her, navy blue silk from Hermès. It would be a shame to tear it.

He looked at her waiting for him. Well, he did have other ties.

Snarling, he pulled his hands apart, the tie coming undone. Whether it was because he had somehow ripped it, or she had deliberately tied it just loose enough, he wouldn't know until later. For now, he spun around and leapt upon her, taking hold of her hips and pulling her thong to the side.

She yelped and laughed as he caught her, then moaned as he pushed inside, one hand on her hip, the other reaching for her hair. She closed her eyes and moaned, giving in to the bliss of his thrusts. All her worries disappeared, all her self-doubt and insecurity vanished as she moaned freely in sheer pleasure.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, February 14, 2017**

"Clarence is supposed to be on my side, not yours," Mary said pointedly, arching her eyebrow at Matthew's image on the screen.

He laughed. "He is on your side. He knew that my surprise would make you happy, so that's why he agreed to help. Do you like it?"

"I love it, darling, thank you," she replied cheerfully. "The place looks and smells delightful now."

"Well, I know how you're pulling such long hours now on set, so I thought I'd brighten up the place a bit," he said.

"I just wish you were here so I could thank you properly," she teased.

"So do I," he said, giving her a knowing smile. "But it's just a few weeks until premiere week, and we'll be together there, here and in London."

"At last," she said, smiling at him. "I've been waiting to see that shower scene for ages."

"Ha ha," he laughed sarcastically. "I'm just the eye candy in the film, am I?"

"Whatever works," she joked.

They both smiled and laughed. While they were looking forward to the release of _Shattered_ , there was a sad element to it as well. Violet hadn't improved, and any thought of her attending the London premiere was out of the question. They were trying to see if they could bring her to London so she could at least have a private screening with the family, but traveling was hard on her. It dampened the joy of going back home to unveil their film, knowing she wouldn't be able to appreciate it fully, or even remember it.

"I'm just sorry that I'll need to wait at least until then to see you wear your Valentine's Day gift," he said, smirking at her.

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know how you expect me to wear that. I couldn't figure out half the straps."

"I'll help you," he said.

"Of course you will," she replied, unable to stop herself from smiling. She covered her mouth as she yawned. "Goodness. Excuse me."

"It seems that I must brush up on my powers of fascination," he joked.

"I'm sorry, darling," she apologized. "Filming seems to have worn me out."

"Understandable," he said. "Get some sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."

"No!" she protested, then yawned again. "I wanted to give you a show."

"I appreciate the thought, but we're both better off if you get some rest," he said warmly. "Good night. Happy Valentine's Day. Love you."

"Mmm, love you too, darling. I'll make it up to you when you come back next month. Promise," she said sleepily.

He nodded and hung up. She put her tablet back on the nightstand and fell asleep shortly after.

 **Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 6, 2017**

The paparazzi and media surrounded the red carpet outside the large glass atrium, waiting for the principal cast to arrive. Some local actors and athletes had already walked the red carpet, and Thea had gone through as well, smiling and answering questions. She raved about the performances, noting how she so enjoyed directing Rick and Natalie, and how Mary and Matthew had developed so much since she last worked with them back in England. Now the cameras waited patiently for the four main players.

Interest in the premiere had ramped up given Mary's past ties to Henry and rumours that his character would be killed off on _Paladin_. Mary suspected that Henry's own people put that information out there to build sympathy for him and keep him in the news. While his scandal had essentially faded away, there was interest on who he and Mary would date next. The odd photo surfaced of Henry out with different women in Los Angeles and Las Vegas, but Mary had stayed under the radar, focusing on filming Season 5. Posting more photos from the set and of her cast and crew had helped keep the attention on her work, rather than her private life, and she was grateful for it. Tonight she would get to walk the red carpet with Matthew. They still weren't entirely public with their relationship. She admitted that she was worried how it would look to be with another man so soon, even though of course their relationship had been going on for far longer. For his part, he wasn't bothered either way. He was so focused on making the most of his opportunity on _The Irishman_ that whatever made life easier for Mary worked for him.

Still, there was something thrilling about walking the red carpet together, posing for photos with his hand on her back, doing interviews together and smiling and laughing as they talked about the movie, their movie. There were group photos with the four of them, and a few of him and Natalie as well, but by the time he sat down next to Mary and took her hand in his, he felt strangely giddy.

"We fooled them all out there, didn't we?" she asked, smiling at him, mischief in her eyes and voice.

"We did," he agreed. "It felt good – being able to walk with you finally."

"It felt good to have you with me," she said warmly. "And we still get to do this twice more."

"Now we just have to pray the movie doesn't flop," he said playfully.

"I can't see how it would be," she stated. "I think that when we look back on this moment, we'll be able to say that so much changed with this one film."

"Here's hoping," he agreed. He squeezed her hand and they both turned to look up at the screen as the lights dimmed and the movie began.

* * *

 **Song Credit:**

 **Versace on the Floor -** Bruno Mars, (2016), Atlantic Records


	4. Chapter 4

**Previously:**

 **Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 6, 2017**

Interest in the premiere had ramped up given Mary's past ties to Henry and rumours that his character would be killed off on _Paladin_. Mary suspected that Henry's own people put that information out there to build sympathy for him and keep him in the news. While his scandal had essentially faded away, there was interest on who he and Mary would date next. The odd photo surfaced of Henry out with different women in Los Angeles and Las Vegas, but Mary had stayed under the radar, focusing on filming Season 5. Posting more photos from the set and of her cast and crew had helped keep the attention on her work, rather than her private life, and she was grateful for it. Tonight she would get to walk the red carpet with Matthew. They still weren't entirely public with their relationship. She admitted that she was worried how it would look to be with another man so soon, even though of course their relationship had been going on for far longer. For his part, he wasn't bothered either way. He was so focused on making the most of his opportunity on _The Irishman_ that whatever made life easier for Mary worked for him.

Still, there was something thrilling about walking the red carpet together, posing for photos with his hand on her back, doing interviews together and smiling and laughing as they talked about the movie, their movie. There were group photos with the four of them, and a few of him and Natalie as well, but by the time he sat down next to Mary and took her hand in his, he felt strangely giddy.

"We fooled them all out there, didn't we?" she asked, smiling at him, mischief in her eyes and voice.

"We did," he agreed. "It felt good – being able to walk with you finally."

"It felt good to have you with me," she said warmly. "And we still get to do this twice more."

"Now we just have to pray the movie doesn't flop," he said playfully.

"I can't see how it would be," she stated. "I think that when we look back on this moment, we'll be able to say that so much changed with this one film."

"Here's hoping," he agreed. He squeezed her hand and they both turned to look up at the screen as the lights dimmed and the movie began.

 **Chapter 4:**

 **Corner Suite, Westin New York Grand Central Hotel, Midtown Manhattan, New York, USA, March 8, 2017**

Mary pulled the sheer curtain back and looked out on to the dark and dreary metropolis below. It wasn't quite sunrise yet, but the rain was clearly pelting down. She could make out lines of yellow cabs and black Uber SUVs already crawling along the streets, the weather making everything move a bit slower, and likely shortening tempers as well. She sighed, her one hand fiddling with the silk collar of her robe.

"Well, that's unfortunate," she noted, frowning at the scene. "It's still raining. I thought that it might let up by now, but the forecast is that it won't stop until tomorrow."

"Hmm, so?" Matthew asked, his eyes still closed as he lay curled in bed.

She turned away from the window and looked at him curiously.

"So, that means we'll be walking the red carpet and taking photos in the rain," she said, dropping the curtain and going back to bed.

"So we'll get wet," he said plainly, opening his eyes and smirking at her.

She got under the covers next to him and rolled her eyes. "Easy for you to say. A few drops of rain on your suit and you'll still look fine. I can guarantee you that Ralph Lauren will be quite annoyed if I show up with splotches on his jumpsuit, or worse, drenched from head to toe."

"If the top becomes see-through then you'll be the talk of the town. Imagine the publicity," he joked. "Oww!"

"You deserve it," she scoffed, slapping his arm again. "See-through…honestly."

"Oh, don't worry darling. If it rains, there will be an army of brolly-wielding underlings dispatched to protect you. Even if you do get a little bit wet, what does it matter, really? You'll still look gorgeous and Mr. Lauren will be pleased to have his name mentioned in the press. 'Actress Mary Crawley wears Ralph Lauren to the premiere of her movie Shattered in Manhattan'," he said, taking on a serious television announcer voice for the last part.

She smiled and shook her head. "Goodness, one blowjob and you now don't have a care in the world."

He laughed at her vulgarity. She smiled and stuck her tongue out at him.

Among the Crawley sisters, Sybil was easily the most likely to curse in the middle of a sentence, and behave in a decidedly unladylike manner. However, Mary could hold her own when she wanted to. It seemed so juvenile, but he loved when she used crude language around him. It was another side of her that he liked to think only he got to see because she was comfortable enough to not hide it from him.

"I seem to recall I got more than just the one," he retorted, his blue eyes bright and playful, even in the dull light coming in from outside. "To say nothing for everything else that we did last night."

"Well, I knew that you'd gone without me for so long that I decided to be generous this week," she said airily. "And you were rather insatiable, besides. You wouldn't be deterred."

"I was insatiable?" he repeated, laughing at her. "I wasn't the one who insisted on going a second round right away."

She smiled and looked down at the duvet.

"Or a third round," he said thickly, pulling her to him and kissing her cheek. "Or a fourth round."

"Stop it!" she scolded him, closing her eyes as he kissed her neck. "I have meetings…and…commitments…I need to be at The Tonight Show hours in advance of our going to the premiere, and…"

"Your itinerary doesn't start until 9, which means we have a good two hours yet," he said, his hand drifting over and pulling at the tie of her robe. "I checked."

She let out a soft moan as his hand drifted up to cup her breast. "Matthew, stop," she gasped. "I…I really don't have time."

"All right," he said casually, releasing her and easing back against the pillows.

She blinked in surprise, feeling strangely colder without his hands on her. "That's it?"

"You said stop, darling," he noted, smiling at her, propping himself up on his side, his blond hair wonderfully dishevelled. "Surely you don't think I would force myself upon you?"

She swallowed, her pulse still beating quickly. "No, of course not."

"Well, you probably need to jump in the shower, don't you?" he asked, turning on to his back and idly throwing the duvet off of his naked body. "Who are you meeting this morning again? The stylists are coming, aren't they?"

She nodded, her eyes inadvertently following his hand as it drifted down to his thigh.

"I never know how you can decide on what to wear. You always look so gorgeous, darling, but coming up with the right look must be so…hard," he said lightly. His hand reached over and stroked himself lazily.

She let out a harsh breath as she watched him. "It can be quite…hard…yes."

"It doesn't seem fair, the pressure that actresses are under to always look so flawless," he continued casually. "Always at the mercy of fashion bloggers and media, it's shouldn't matter so much the way you look for a few seconds on the red carpet, but it's considered so…big."

She licked her lips despite herself, the outrageousness of what he was doing, how he was making her watch, shocking and arousing her all at once. Was this the same timid man that she used to wrap around her finger? Stretched out languidly, one leg bent to give her a very enticing view, sculpted arms, six-pack abs, strong thighs, putting on a dirty show for her as if he knew the very sight of it could get her to do anything he wanted.

Just like she had last night.

"Matthew…" she struggled.

"Yes, darling?" he asked, smiling at her, his hand bringing him to full and proud arousal.

"You think you can shock me, do you?" she demanded, her voice wavering far more than she wanted. What was wrong with her? Yes, sex with Matthew was great but it didn't usually affect her this much, make her forget herself so easily. She shouldn't be giving him such an advantage, letting him have his way so often.

And yet she didn't want to leave the bed, or have him stop just yet.

"You're free to go, darling," he said easily, smiling at her, his hand not stopping. "I'm just going to relax here for a moment."

"Relax?" she asked, arching her eyebrow.

"Relax and think about you," he said smoothly. "I do that quite often, in fact."

"How…how often?" she asked, still watching him.

"Usually once at night, again in the morning, depending on how I'm feeling," he said. "When we have our chats in the evenings, that helps."

Her eyes drifted up to his, a flutter in her chest as his words painted a very vivid picture in her mind.

"I do wish you would stay though," he said playfully. "We've got more than enough time."

He stretched out his other hand between them on the bed. She looked down at his open palm, large and inviting. Placing her smaller hand in his, she took a breath in anticipation as he pulled her towards him, replacing his hand with hers. She looked up at him. He nodded his head. She wrapped her fingers around him, heat pooling in her core as she felt him swell in her grasp.

"Mmm, that feels wonderful, darling," he groaned, his voice deep and liquid.

"Insatiable," she said before opening her mouth and taking him in.

He sighed in pleasure and reached out, tugging at her robe.

"Take it off," he said, his voice sounding far more laboured than it had just a moment ago.

She kept her mouth on him, reached down and quickly threw her robe off, a shiver running down her spine as his hand massaged her bare back.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he said reverently, sending another rush of desire through her as his hand trailed down over her hip and caressed her bottom.

She hummed around him, one hand on his thigh to steady herself as her other joined her lips and tongue in building him up. She vaguely felt him massage her leg and gently nudge her towards him. Shifting her body as he wanted, she moaned as his fingers now reached to her inner thigh and up towards her centre.

"Oh yes," he hissed, and she whimpered in reply as he pushed his fingers inside of her. His hand mimicked the rhythm of her mouth, the two of them falling into a familiar contest to see who would be the other's undoing.

It was against her better judgment, but her better judgment had abandoned her long ago. She opened her eyes, looking out across the room and finding them in the mirror on the opposite wall. The sight of what she was doing pushed her towards the edge and she increased her efforts, knowing she wouldn't last much longer.

"Mary!" he warned her, his voice a growl now. It only spurred her on.

She won by about a second, but neither of them cared.

When their breathing calmed enough, he pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She pinched his side and they both laughed.

"Shower," she mumbled, kissing his neck.

"Just a shower?" he teased.

"Get in there and find out," she said.

She laughed as he scooped her up and carried her to the bathroom.

 **The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, 30 Rockefeller Center, Manhattan, New York, USA, March 8, 2017**

"We love her so much, always love having her here. She has a new movie coming out that is absolutely amazing and we're going to talk to her all about that, all about _Paladin_. It's Lady Mary Crawley, ladies and gentlemen!"

Anna watched on the monitor as the audience applauded and Mary came out, smiling and waving. She went over and gave host Jimmy Fallon the obligatory hug and kiss, then took her seat on the guest chair. _The Tonight Show_ was always a coveted interview, and it was a bit of a coup that Lady Rosamund had booked it. Natalie did _The Late Show with Seth Meyers_ last night, and would be on _Jimmy Kimmel_ tomorrow. Given that Mary didn't have top billing for _Shattered_ , this was big for her.

"Every time I see you, I always ask you for _Paladin_ spoilers, and you always tell me you can't say anything," Jimmy said, laughing.

"I so wish I could tell you, but I just can't, no. They would absolutely kill me, honestly," Mary replied, smiling as the audience groaned and laughed.

"But you are filming now for Season 5, right? You can say that," Jimmy asked.

"Yes," Mary nodded. "We've been at it for a few months now and it's quite intense. We've got a lot of twists coming and I think the fans are really going to love it. In a lot of ways, it's a big step for us, taking things to another level, which is great."

Anna smiled. The talk show producers always sent over a list of topics beforehand so that the interview would run smoothly. Jimmy Fallon was always nice and kind, so they didn't have any worries that he might ask a question about Henry. She had spent two hours with Mary preparing possible answers and going over different points that she wanted to make sure she hit. Mary was a pro at these things now, but earlier on when they had first come to North America, she was quite intimidated by talk shows. They seemed so much bigger here compared to shows back in England, and the challenge to appear beautiful, smart, funny, flirty and entertaining in just a few minutes was quite daunting. So far through this appearance, Mary was doing very well.

She looked over at Matthew, sitting on the sofa of Mary's dressing room and looking at his phone. He never paid much attention to Mary's interviews and appearances. It wasn't because he didn't care, but because he preferred the real Mary over the one pre-packaged and marketed one, and he apparently felt that if he followed this one too much, it made him more of a fan than a boyfriend. Anna found his strange behaviour rather cute. Smiling to herself, she looked back at the monitor.

"I got to see _Shattered_ early. I know you have to run off to the premiere tonight. I loved it. I thought it was so different, really dramatic, but kind of went deeper into all the characters too, which was great. I went in thinking it would go a certain way, and it didn't, and I really liked that," Jimmy said.

"Yes, I really liked that about the script as well when I read it," Mary agreed. "It's not a movie about adultery, or a broken marriage, at least it's not only that. The relationships between the characters, between me and my husband, and between me and my lover, and him and his lover, it's quite complex, I think, and the interesting thing about it for me is there's no typical villain and victim and so on. The husband cheats. The wife cheats. The people they're with have their own stories, so yes, it's very different, and kind of refreshing, really."

Anna glanced over at Matthew again. He still wasn't paying attention.

"Now, one thing I wanted to ask you. This cast is amazing. Rick Yune plays your husband, he's great, and Natalie Dormer is the other woman, love her. Your lover in this movie is played by an actor that I don't think many people have heard about, right?" Jimmy asked.

Anna smiled in anticipation. Matthew still wasn't watching.

"That's right. Matthew Crawley," Mary said with a smile. "No relation."

Matthew's head shot up when he heard Mary say his name.

Jimmy laughed and nodded. "That's what I was going to ask you, because I think I heard something about he was your cousin, or something, and I thought 'oh, that's cool', then I saw the movie, and you two have some pretty hot scenes together, and I thought 'is she kissing her cousin?'"

Matthew's mouth fell open as he looked at the monitor.

Anna smirked as she watched the look of shock cross his face.

Mary laughed and clapped her hands, shaking her head as the audience roared. "No, no, no, we are definitely not related. I've known Matthew since we were children, actually. Our families have known each other for a long time, we both got into acting around the same time as well. No, we are not cousins. It was really great working with him. This is the first movie we've ever done together and we had such a good time. The whole cast was wonderful, working with Rick and Natalie too, it was fantastic. There's so many emotionally charged scenes in the movie, especially between Matthew and I, you sometimes get worried about how you're going to make it through all these really heavy, important scenes if you don't have a good connection with the other actor, but he was great."

Matthew's eyes almost popped out of his head.

"Well, I'm not going to spoil it for anyone, but there's a scene in the movie and if anyone didn't know who he was before, they're going to know him after they see it," Jimmy joked. "You know what I'm talking about."

Mary laughed and nodded. "I do, I do."

"No, he's great in the whole movie, you're great in the whole movie. Like I said, I really enjoyed it. I know you have to go. Thank you so much for coming back and seeing us, we love having you here. Shattered comes out on March 17, everybody give it up for Lady Mary Crawley!" Jimmy shouted, standing up and pointing at Mary before leaning over and giving her a hug.

Matthew looked at Anna with a stunned stare.

Anna just winked and laughed at him.

 **AMC Loews Lincoln Square, Manhattan, New York, USA, March 8, 2017**

Matthew left the studio early, going down to the garage and getting into the limo while Mary and Anna wrapped things up upstairs. He couldn't stop smiling, sitting in the back of the car, just staring out the window at the parking lot, smiling.

Mary and Anna arrived shortly after, getting into the back next to him, Anna taking one of the seats opposite them. The driver pulled away and they began the trek a few blocks north to the _Shattered_ premiere. As it was evening in New York City, it would be a rather slow drive, but they had a bit of time thanks to Mary getting out of the show taping as scheduled. The rain had eased somewhat, thankfully.

"Thank you for mentioning me," he said, smiling at her. "I didn't know you would."

"I wasn't going to, originally," she replied. "But you know how talk shows work, you have to do and say a lot of fake things that you don't really believe. It's all for show."

Anna giggled.

"Even so, I appreciate it nonetheless," he said, looking at her wryly.

She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. "You're welcome. It wasn't originally part of the pack of questions Jimmy was going to ask, but we talked about it beforehand and slipped it in. It's the kind of thing that will stick in people's minds, rather than just saying 'I loved working with so-and-so'. Now when they see you, they'll know we're not cousins, and they'll also know to watch for you in the movie. That's what we call promotion, darling."

"Yes, yes, I'm rubbish at it, I know," he said, shrugging his shoulders and nodding in agreement. "You're much better at that sort of thing, with your team of stylists and Anna and Rosamund and the agency helping you get used to it all. I'm rather out of my element."

"Well, you need to start somewhere. No one will care about you, or believe that you're worth their time unless you make them take notice," Mary advised.

"Thank you for helping me," he said, smiling at her.

"Where's Alex? Is he already there?" Mary asked, looking over at Anna.

She nodded, looking at his texts on her phone. "He says it's quite busy. That's good."

"Ready for your big New York debut?" Mary teased, smiling at Matthew.

"I am," he replied. "I might have a surprise or two of my own planned, as well."

She arched her eyebrow and looked at him pointedly. "Nothing controversial, I hope?"

"Never," he said, laughing at her guarded glance. "I think you'll like it quite a bit."

"Well, I'll have to see," she stated, holding his hand as the limo navigated up Broadway.

 **Junior Suite, Westin New York Grand Central, Midtown Manhattan, New York, USA, March 8, 2017**

Anna swiped her fingers across her tablet, opening different attachments and moving them around into separate file folders. Whenever Mary did press, she would arrange for all the video and audio clips to be sent to her. She liked to keep an archive in case Mary wanted to see them, and it was easier for her to maintain it than to rely on Lady Rosamund and the agency. Her connections at the networks forwarded her the _Tonight Show_ appearance as well as interviews from the red carpet at the premiere. There were also photos from the after-party that needed to be organized, but she set that aside for now.

"What do you think you're doing?" Alex asked, rising up behind her and kissing her bare shoulder. His arms wrapped around her and he nuzzled against her neck. "Come back to bed."

"I'm already in bed," she replied, smirking as she felt him huff against her.

"You know what I mean," he grumbled.

She grinned, turning her face and kissing him warmly. "I'm working, babes. I just need to download a few videos, that's all."

"Mmm, can't it wait until tomorrow?" he whinged, resting his head on her shoulder and fitting himself against her back.

"So needy," she teased, smiling as she kept at her work. "Aren't you the least bit tired?"

"See for yourself," he said, reaching around for her hand and drawing it back against him.

"Stop!" she said, laughing as she squeezed him then pulled her hand away. "How can you want it all the time?"

"Because my wife is fucking sexy as hell," he replied, holding her and letting her work.

"You think I'm sexy but no one else does," she retorted, pulling up the E! News feature on the premiere. "I think you're being delusional. I'm just ordinary."

"You're not ordinary, not to me," he said, kissing her shoulder blade. "I bet plenty of men think you're sexy, you just don't know it, and that is fine with me. I'm not sharing."

She laughed and maximized the video window so she could see the playback more clearly.

 _'We are here at the New York premiere of Shattered, starring Rick Yune, Natalie Dormer, and Mary Crawley, and the stars have come out!'_

A montage played showing Rick, Natalie, Mary, and Matthew all walking the red carpet, waving and smiling at fans. The turnout at premieres, even in New York, was usually limited to the cast of the film and a few other actors, usually ones who needed the limited publicity. Most agents didn't send their clients to premieres unless it was a major film, and even then, the top A-listers never went. There just wasn't that much to be gained by showing up.

 _'The rainy weather in New York did nothing to dampen the spirits of several top stars coming out to support their friends in the picture. Daniel Craig and his wife Rachel Weisz showed up, as did pals Sophie Turner and Maisie Williams, who worked with Dormer on Game of Thrones. The crowd went wild though when the stars of the highly anticipated movie, The Irishman, Robert De Niro and Al Pacino, walked the red carpet, showing up for their castmate, Matthew Crawley.'_

Anna shook her head, still not quite believing the two legends had shown up.

 _"We're here for Matthew," De Niro said, smiling and nodding his head. "Going to check out his new movie."_

 _'When pressed for any details on the Martin Scorsese-directed movie currently filming in New York, Pacino was, as usual, tight-lipped.'_

 _"Matthew invited us to come, and we're here. He's a good guy, a good actor, we're looking forward to it," Pacino said, smiling before walking away._

 _'Even the cast were a bit starstruck.'_

 _"We always love coming to New York, and for actors that we all admire to come see our film, it's really great, really an honour. I just hope they like it!" Natalie said, smiling as she stood next to Mary and Matthew._

 _'Shattered opens nationwide March 17.'_

"Did Matthew tell you they were going to show up?" Anna asked, putting her tablet down and looking at her husband inquisitively.

"No," he replied. "I don't know if he even knew that they would."

"Well, he mentioned he had a surprise planned on the way over," she explained.

"And was Mary surprised?" he asked, kissing her shoulder.

"She was shocked. We all were," she said, laughing at the memory. "When Matthew introduced her to them, I think that's the first time in forever that I've seen her speechless."

"I'm just glad that no one tried to do an impression of them," he said. "I hear they hate it when that happens."

Anna laughed and kissed him.

"Done work yet?" he asked, pulling her closer.

"Mmm, I could be convinced to call it a night," she teased. "If you make it worth it."

"Come here and find out," he said, pulling her back down to the bed.

She laughed and turned in his hold, straddling him as he claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss.

 **French Roast Café, Downtown Manhattan, New York, USA, March 9, 2017**

"No! Darling, no coffee for you. It's past midnight," Mary said, taking the small espresso cup away just as Sybil was raising it to her lips.

Matthew and Tom shared a knowing glance.

"I'm pregnant, not dead," Sybil protested, glaring at her sister. "Caffeine is permitted."

"In very limited doses, and I expect you've already had a few cups today," Mary shot back. "It's milk for you."

"Bloody hell," Sybil muttered, shaking her head as Mary slid the glass across the table to her.

Tom grinned wide as he scrolled through the photos on his phone. "Crikey, I can't believe I've got a shot of me with Al-fucking-Pacino! Wait 'til I show this to the lads at the office tomorrow."

"We were there too, you realize," Matthew joked. "It was our film that you came to watch."

"Both of you were great, yeah," Tom said dismissively. "But come on! _Scarface_! _Heat_! _Carlito's Way_! _Donnie Brasco_! _Any Given Sunday_!"

"Hon? He was in _Gigli_ , too," Sybil interrupted.

They all laughed at Tom's sour expression just as the waitress brought over their charcuterie board and mussels with frites.

"Sybil," Mary warned.

"Oh God," Sybil groaned, bypassing the mussels and reaching for the ham and cheese. "There? Satisfied?"

"No shellfish," Mary said pointedly.

"For someone who hates babies, you're remarkably up to date on what I can and cannot have," Sybil complained.

"I do not hate babies!" Mary protested, glancing quickly at Matthew's smiling face. "And I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. You're a doctor, for God's sake."

"Be thankful, hon," Tom said patiently. "Better it be Mary than either of our mothers."

Sybil just shook her head and spread some mustard on her sourdough bread.

"We are happy for you, honestly," Matthew said, smiling at Sybil. "We're elated, really. It's wonderful news."

Sybil smiled at him in thanks.

"When do you intend to tell Mum?" Mary asked.

"Not for another month, at least. Tom doesn't want her flying over here," Sybil said, smirking at her husband.

"And you don't want me Mam coming to stay with us either," Tom said, smiling knowingly. "It'll be our secret for a while longer, but we had to tell the both of you."

"I would have figured it out anyway," Mary said easily. "I knew when Sybil didn't have wine with dinner the other night."

"That was rather shocking," Matthew agreed.

"Don't you go and agree with everything she says," Sybil said, looking at Matthew wryly.

"He doesn't, not even close," Mary stated.

"Anyway, that's why we can't come back to London with you. Not only do we have no time at all, but there's no way I could last the weekend without someone finding out," Sybil explained.

Matthew nodded in understanding. "We'll barely have time to see anyone as it is. Are your parents coming to the premiere?"

Mary shook her head. "They don't want to leave Downton."

The four of them fell silent and continued to eat, all of them well aware of why Robert and Cora wanted to stay as close to Violet as possible.

The waitress came over and served them a bowl of French Onion soup.

"Did you want to start?" Mary asked Matthew, motioning to the bowl.

"No, darling, you go ahead. I'm not that hungry," Matthew replied.

"What are you wearing for the London premiere?" Sybil asked.

"Mmm, I'll show you. It's a top and skirt in these almost metallic colours; just gorgeous," Mary said, taking out her phone.

Tom and Matthew shared a knowing smile, occupying themselves with a conversation about other actors who had come out to the after-party as Mary and Sybil looked at a photo of her ensemble for London.

 **The Guardian Newspaper Head Office, Kings Place, London, England, March 10, 2017**

"Hey Luke, we got something over here."

"What is it?"

"USB stick came in by courier, no return address, all it says is 'From a Concerned Citizen'"

"What's on it?"

"See for yourself."

He looked at the computer screen, his eyes narrowing as he perused the file list.

"Let me see that one."

He clicked on the file and brought up a multi-page document. They both read it over, skimming through the pages.

"This could be something."

"Or it could be nothing. What else is there?"

"Hang on, there's more PDFs, and this…"

He clicked on the video file, opening and playing it.

Both of their mouths gaped.

"Jesus fucking Christ."

"Get everyone in. We've got to figure this out. If we hurry, we can get it sorted in time to post tonight."

 **Fitness First London – Berkeley Square, Mayfair, London, England, March 10, 2017**

Matthew went over to the weight rack and reached for the 25-pound dumbbells.

"Ah ah ah," Alex said. "We're doing 35s this set."

Matthew frowned at his friend and shook his head before stepping to the side and picking up the heavier weights. He brought them over to the chair and sat down, looking at Alex in the floor-to-ceiling mirror in front of them as he raised the weights up to his shoulders.

"You're fucking annoying to work out with, you know that?" Matthew grunted, raising the weights up above his head to full extension, then bringing them slowly back down to shoulder level.

"Hey, no cutting corners when you're a superstar actor," Alex joked, holding his hands just below Matthew's biceps and spotting him through the exercise.

Matthew scoffed and grunted, breathing hard as he went through twelve repetitions before easing the weights down and dropping them to the floor.

"Superstar. Right. Being back here just reinforces the fact that I'm nobody," Matthew said, getting up from the chair and wiping it down before Alex swapped in to do his set of shoulder press.

"Would you rather be like Mary? Back at Painswick House with her stylist team poking and prodding, letting her have a cracker to eat for the whole day?" Alex asked, lifting the weights above his head.

"No," Matthew pouted. "I don't know if I'll ever get to that level. There's just so much…noise…you know? All these people buzzing around, and it has nothing to do with the actual acting, the actual craft. You know, back in New York, the set is so chill, so straightforward. Mr. Scorsese, Bob, they all just get on with the work. I can't wait to get back, if I'm honest."

Alex finished up his set easily and got up to carry the weights back to the rack. He replaced them and got his water bottle, taking a long drink.

"Maybe if you just accepted that all of it, the whole circus, everything, is part of your job now, you wouldn't brood so much about it," Alex suggested. "Every job, _every_ job has elements to it that are less than perfect. Don't dwell so much on the parts you don't like. Just look at it as something you have to do to get to the parts that you do like."

Matthew smiled wryly as he sipped his sports drink. "And what parts of your job are less than perfect?"

Alex frowned. "You'd be surprised. Investors who sink tens of millions into a movie can be strangely obsessed with a few thousand here and there. The negotiating is fun. The closing is fun. Seeing the movie released is fun. Everything else can kind of suck. But, you do what you have to do."

"I suppose the millions that you make in commission helps your tolerance level," Matthew teased.

"You'll be making millions soon enough," Alex said easily. "As long as you don't let your self-righteousness screw it all up."

Matthew laughed and led the way over to the chin-up bar.

"How's Anna?" he asked. "I didn't see her this morning."

"She went ahead to see the venue and figure out the route Mary's going to take into the theatre. She likes getting out early so there's fewer people around," Alex explained. "Plus, being back in London is fun for her, so she likes some alone time. It worked out well since I was in non-stop calls until now."

"Ah," Matthew said. "And everything all right? She's calmer these days?"

"I think she's still worried," Alex said, sighing resignedly. "She doesn't say it, but I can tell that she gets anxious at the same time every month. I just try and be supportive and hope she isn't too hard on herself."

"Well you know it's not you," Matthew noted. "Your tests came back fine, you said."

"Yeah, they did. I didn't tell Anna about it. I just wanted to make sure there wasn't anything I could do, but telling her that I'm fine would probably freak her out even more, make her assume that it's for sure something wrong with her, and I don't want that," Alex said.

"Yeah, that's smart," Matthew agreed. "I hope she doesn't feel more pressure because Sybil's pregnant now. I'm sure Mary's mentioned it, even though we were sworn to secrecy."

"She won't be angry, but she'll probably feel a bit envious. It happens. It's not reasonable, but it happens," Alex admitted.

"Just like me and all the people who comment on Mary's photos," Matthew said, smiling ruefully. He hopped up and grabbed the chin-up bar and raised his head above it, then lowered himself back down to hang for a moment before lifting up again.

"Aren't most of her fans women, though?" Alex asked.

"Not all of them," Matthew said, gritting his teeth as he continued his set. "She gets invitations and marriage proposals every so often."

"Yeah, you should really worry about those," Alex said, smirking.

Matthew grunted and finished his set, dropping down to the floor. "I know, I know. It's stupid. But I can't help it. I'll read jokes that some of her friends post on her Instagram comments and wish I had thought of them first. Fuck, what the hell, right?"

Alex laughed as he went through his chin-ups. "Maybe that's a good thing. It shows you're hopelessly in love still."

"Either that or I'm becoming even more insane," Matthew grumbled.

"Let's go with being in love. It sounds better," Alex said, dropping to the floor and bumping fists with Matthew as they traded places.

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, March 10, 2017**

Anna walked along the picturesque street, past the towering period homes, each one more impressive than the next. She glanced down at her outfit, almost afraid that someone might come forward and say she wasn't dressed well enough to walk in the neighbourhood.

"I'm almost at the house, Mum," she said into her headset. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Just a second, dear. Is everything all right with Alex? He seemed a bit distracted when I spoke to him earlier."

Anna rolled her eyes. "That's because you called him in the middle of a conference call he was having for work," she said. "He's not here on vacation, you know. He's working during the day so he can go to the premiere tonight. It's been like that all week."

"Okay, that makes me feel better. I was worried that he might be getting impatient with you."

Anna frowned. "Thanks, Mum. That's sweet of you."

"Well, I just worry, is all. Alex is a wonderful man, but even he will have his limits, dear. It's very important that you…"

"Yeah, yeah, it's important that I give him children otherwise he'll leave me and find a woman who can. Your confidence in me is heart-warming, honestly," Anna snapped. "Mum, not all men are like Dad, or the others that you've been with, or even the ones I dated before I met Alex. I've got enough to worry over without you telling me my husband is going to walk out on me if I can't get pregnant."

"I never said he was going to leave you, but it will put a strain on your marriage. It's not anyone's fault, dear, it's just the way these things work. Alex is used to getting what he wants. I know he won't blame you if things don't work out, but it will affect him, it has to."

"Mum, I've got to go. I'm at the house. I'll call you tomorrow," Anna said tiredly.

"Have a good time tonight, dear. I'll be watching for you on the telly!"

"Yeah, thanks. Bye," Anna said curtly, hanging up the call and walking up the wide steps to knock on the front door of the Crawley family's London home. The butler answered the door and acknowledged her with a bow of his head, greeting her with a formal "Ms. Smith" and gesturing for her to go on upstairs.

* * *

"What do you think?" Edith asked, looking at the computer screen questioningly.

Sybil frowned on the other end of the video chat. "Turn your head to the left? No, your other left. Yeah. Oh, okay. Yeah, that looks great. I was confused for a moment that there was something strange with your hair, but that was the curtain behind you."

Edith smiled in relief. "I've been an absolute wreck all afternoon. I keep thinking that I'm wearing too much make-up, or too little, that my hair isn't fancy enough, or it's too done up. I don't know how Mary does this so easily."

"She's got a great team. I loved it when they did me," Sybil said. "You should hire them for the wedding, maybe."

"Mary thought so too. I don't know if Bertie would appreciate that, flying in a stylist from Hollywood to get me ready," Edith admitted, smiling at her younger sister.

"The Marchioness of Hexham deserves only the best, by God," Sybil said, using her most posh voice and accent.

Edith laughed and shook her head.

"How's Mary?" Sybil asked.

"I'm well, thank you for thinking of me," Mary called from across the room. "I'm glad I didn't have to bring both of you to the same premiere. You'd surely do something to annoy me, or embarrass me, or both."

"My vote's for both," Edith said plainly, smirking at Sybil.

"The limo will be here in an hour," Anna called, coming into the bedroom. Upon her return to London yesterday, Mary had taken over one of the guest rooms so they could all get ready for the premiere tonight. Aunt Rosamund preferred to go to a salon, and would meet them later on. Edith was enjoying a bit of pampering with Bertie out of town on business.

"Do we know how many people are expected there?" Mary asked.

"They're not going to close the Square entirely, but there will be barriers, which means the opposite side should be quite full," Anna advised. "If you wanted to cross over and sign autographs for a bit, it's doable. I checked with Natalie's P.A. She's up for it if you are."

"I'll have to see when we arrive. It's a nice idea, but it can get rather out of hand if we aren't careful," Mary said. "How many interviews are we expecting?"

"Three at most for each of you. They don't want you to do them together as it bogs everything down," Anna said.

"Is Molesley going to be there? Someone needs to help Matthew if we aren't going to be walking together," Mary said.

"Mr. Molesley and Ms. Baxter will both be there," Anna confirmed. "You get to walk with Matthew, but you just are doing separate interviews, is all."

"Well that's a relief. The last thing I need is for him to throw a tantrum," Mary said, smirking at her reflection in the mirror as her hair was put through a straightening iron.

"He doesn't throw tantrums, does he?" Edith asked.

"I was only joking," Mary said. "But he's been rather spoiled this week. I walked with him in Toronto and New York."

"She's right," Sybil chimed in. "He was practically floating when he was here."

The sisters all laughed knowingly.

"Edith, bring Sybil over here and Anna can take a photo of us getting ready. Here's your chance to get some new followers," Mary called.

Edith shared a wry smile with Sybil, then picked up the laptop and brought it over to Mary's vanity. She struck a dramatic pose while Mary closed her eyes with the make-up team hovering around her. Anna smiled and took the photo, being sure to get Sybil's hilarious haughty expression in the shot.

 **Empire Cinema, Leicester Square, London, England, March 10, 2017**

The sun had already set by the time activity started ramping up outside the cinema. Fans gathered behind barricades, creating a cordoned-off lane for the red carpet. Media and photographers were set up and waiting patiently. Though _Shattered_ was a Hollywood film, having Natalie, Mary and Matthew in the cast and Thea as the director gave it decidedly British ties, and the studio was expecting it to play well in the UK market and across the Continent. It didn't have the marketing budget and hype of major tent pole releases, but there was a palpable buzz about the movie. Early reviews from Toronto and New York were very positive ahead of the film's wide release next week. A glamorous debut tonight would build the momentum ahead of opening weekend.

The procession of cars began, bringing in executives, staff and lesser known guests to the red carpet. It wasn't nearly as long and drawn out as an awards show arrival, but it still needed to be coordinated properly. A few local celebrities and actors drew the first applause of the night from the gathered crowds.

Mabel smiled as she stepped out of her limo and on to the red carpet. A smattering of cheers rang out from the fans and she waved politely as she walked along. The paparazzi called out to her to stop and pose, which she did, continuing on through the gauntlet until she reached the cinema. She wasn't in any hurry to go inside or to find her assigned seat. To all the world it would seem as though she was here to support Mary, which was the illusion she wanted to project.

Standing just inside the entrance, she took out her phone and checked the time before browsing several websites. Mary would be arriving within the hour, and the show could then begin.

* * *

"Normally there isn't a live feed of the event itself. The different networks show up and record their hits and enough footage to fill the time, but they don't broadcast it or anything," Joe explained.

Matthew nodded, glancing out the car window at the gathered crowd.

"We were able to get a man into the media pool," Phyllis advised proudly. "The live stream is going out to Downton Abbey and the signal is strong, from what I am told. We considered putting it on YouTube or Facebook, but we didn't want to run afoul of the studio and besides, one direct feed ensures there isn't too much traffic to interfere with the signal."

Matthew smiled and looked at her, nodding gratefully. "Thank you. I know Mother will love it, and Robert and Cora will very much appreciate your efforts as well."

"Oh it's nothing, Matthew," Joe said easily. "Technology these days, you know. Everyone's got a camera."

"We double checked with the studio and you aren't due back on set in New York until Monday so you can enjoy the weekend a bit," Phyllis said. "I know you've been running around all week. You must be tired."

"I've been going on adrenaline for a while," Matthew said wryly. "I think we'll probably spend tomorrow here but Mary wants to fly out on Sunday morning. She's due back on set for Monday as well and she needs time to adjust to the time difference. It's a shame that we can't go up to Yorkshire, but there just isn't enough time for a proper visit."

"Of course," Phyllis said.

Matthew looked back out at the media and photographers, the huge glowing marquee and the large billboards of the movie poster set up around the Square. His name was literally in lights. It was in smaller text than Mary's and wasn't above the movie title, but it was there nonetheless.

"It almost feels as though we've made it, doesn't it?" he muttered.

Phyllis and Joe shared a warm smile. He took his wife's hand and squeezed it.

"You have made it, Matthew," Joe said. "You're a star in our books."

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, March 10, 2017**

"My Lord, her Ladyship insists that you come through."

Robert frowned and looked up from his desk. He glanced at the large clock on the mantle and shook his head.

"Very well," he said, standing up. "I wouldn't want to miss this."

He nodded to the footman as he left the study and went into the Great Hall and up the stairs. They had a television set up in Mama's bedroom and Matthew's agents had arranged for a live broadcast of the London premiere of Mary's movie to be streamed to them. While he generally didn't care about these things, Cora wanted him to be there to watch with her, Isobel and Mama, and so he dutifully went up to join them.

Just as he was about to go inside the Dowager Countess' bedroom, Carson called out to him from down the hall.

"Yes, Carson, what is it?" Robert asked.

"Telephone call, my Lord. It's someone from The Guardian newspaper in London. He said he wanted to talk to you about an important matter," Carson informed him.

Robert frowned, then glanced at the door to the bedroom. "Important matter? It can wait an hour while I watch Mary's arrival. Take a message and tell him I will call him back later this evening."

"Yes, my Lord," Carson said, nodding his head.

"Thank you. Oh, and Carson, I understand that we are recording the broadcast somehow. You can ask her Ladyship for a copy later on. I'm sure that it would mean a great deal to Mary if you were to watch it," Robert said.

"Thank you, my Lord," Carson said politely, a slight smile crossing his lips. "I shall do that."

Robert smiled and nodded, then went into the bedroom while Carson continued on down the hall.

"Have I missed anything?" Robert asked, coming over to take a seat near his Mama's bedside.

"Mary and Matthew should be there shortly," Isobel said proudly. "You're just in time."

Robert reached over and patted his Mama's hand. She stared at the television vacantly, though she did seem to smile.

 **Empire Cinema, Leicester Square, London, England, March 10, 2017**

"It does feel like a bit of a return home for us," Mary said, smiling at the reporter. "London is still our base, even though we're all over the world working. It's nice to bring this film that we are all so proud of and show it to all us Brits."

"Working with Thea again was wonderful," Matthew told another reporter a few feet away. "This was a big step up for me in a lot of ways, and having a familiar face to help me was invaluable. The same thing goes for having Mary to work with. It helped immensely."

Mary, Matthew, and Natalie had all arrived together and walked the red carpet at the same time. They went over and signed autographs and took selfies with the cheering fans, before going over and posing in front of the massive movie poster. For Natalie and Mary, this was standard procedure at a film premiere. For Matthew, it still felt strange, even after Toronto and New York. Standing with Natalie and Mary on either side of him, while behind them were ten-foot tall images of their faces, was not something he could get used to very quickly.

Still, it went very well, the palpable electricity around the event was exciting and addictive. He had already seen the film twice this week and was growing increasingly more confident that they had all done great work. The lovely response they were getting here in London put him in a very good mood. He was here with Mary, attending the debut of their film in their city. As they smiled for the cameras, his arm around her back and hers across his, he revelled in the moment.

* * *

Rosamund watched as Natalie, Mary and Matthew navigated through the media interviews. She waited patiently near the entrance to the building, never being one to walk along with Mary at these things. Anna was better suited to the task. As she watched Mary laugh and smile, she beamed with pride. This film had been such a challenge, from the disappointment of Mary being relegated to a supporting role, to the pleasant surprise of her enjoying herself during the production, to the now satisfaction and pride of the film debuting to positive reviews. The critics who had seen the movie so far had praised all of the principal cast, and Mary was receiving plenty of attention. It helped Rosamund set up a number of meetings for Mary regarding potential projects for after _Paladin_ and she hoped that they could strike quickly.

Her gaze turned to Matthew and she couldn't help but smile in disbelief. His performance was drawing particular interest from critics, given that he was new and unknown to them. It was a nice little win for him and his agents, but how it would translate going forward was anyone's guess. He had _Black Panther_ and _The Irishman_ in the works, but those were small roles. Rosamund had nothing against him personally, but she simply could not see Mary spending the rest of her life with a man who was likely never to achieve anything more than supporting actor status.

Before she could contemplate who Mary should be with, her phone buzzed. Glancing at the call display, she frowned as she recognized the number and answered the call.

"Yes, hello?" she asked.

"You've got a problem coming."

"From where?" she asked, a frown crossing her brow.

"The Guardian."

Rosamund blinked in confusion. "The Guardian? About my top client?"

"No, at least not directly."

"Then who?" Rosamund asked, at a loss as to what her informant was implying.

"Have you heard of the name Jane Moorsum?"

Her eyes went wide in alarm and she hung up the call. Looking down the red carpet to where Mary was, she counted several reporters waiting to interview her. Turning to her phone again, she speed dialled Anna.

"Get Mary out of there now. Get her through the line and into the theatre right away!"

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, March 10, 2017**

"Doesn't Mary look absolutely gorgeous?" Isobel said, smiling at Violet.

"Very nice," Violet agreed, nodding her head. "Not colours I would choose, but they suit her."

Cora shared a smile with Robert. Though she had been confined to the bed for most of the day, Violet's voice was strong, which gave them some relief. They knew she wouldn't remember any of this tomorrow, or the day after, but for now, they were grateful that she was able to have some enjoyment of what was an important moment for Mary.

There was a knock on the door and Robert turned to see Carson standing at attention.

"My Lord, beg pardon, but just a moment, if you please," the butler called.

Robert patted his Mama's hand, then rose and went out to the hallway with the butler.

"Lady Rosamund telephoned, my Lord," Carson explained. "She said that she has an urgent message for you and she would send it to your phone.

The butler took out Robert's smartphone from his pocket and presented it to him.

"It was in the study, my Lord," Carson said.

"Thank you, Carson," Robert said. He unlocked the phone screen and opened his text messages, scrolling to Rosamund's text sent just minutes ago. Opening it, he read it quickly, his eyes going wide.

"Carson, go and make sure that the public side of the house is closed and that the gates are locked for the evening," Robert ordered. "We are not to be disturbed."

"Yes, my Lord," Carson said, turning and leaving to carry out his commands.

Robert frowned and went back inside the bedroom.

"What was that about, darling?" Cora asked as he sat back down at his Mama's bedside.

"Something that we'll have to attend to, but it can wait a little while longer," Robert said, mustering as much calm in his voice as he could.

Though his wife caught the worry in his eyes, she merely nodded and turned her attention back to the television, where Mary and Matthew were each giving interviews on the red carpet.

 **Empire Cinema, Leicester Square, London, England, March 10, 2017**

 _"Get Mary out of there now. Get her through the line and into the theatre right away!"_

Anna blinked in surprise at Lady Rosamund's instructions, but she didn't question them. She moved forward to Mary, staying out of the camera shot. Touching Mary's arm firmly, she gave her the signal to wrap things up.

"I think it is a departure from Jade, and that's a very good thing. Some people may be shocked at how different Christina is, but that's all right. I don't mind shocking people at all," Mary said pleasantly, giving the reporter a warm smile, then ending the interview and walking away before she could ask another question.

"We're getting you inside," Anna said, coming to her side and guiding her around the numerous staff in front of them. The media and paparazzi were behind barriers, but there were assistants circulating around to get a hold of the actors and direct them to the appropriate interviews. Anna pushed past them, shaking her head no and moving Mary along.

Mary kept her smile on the entire time, waving to the fans and nodding her head. She had no idea why her interviews were cut short, but Anna wouldn't be doing it without direction from Aunt Rosamund, so she went along with it, walking briskly and leaving Matthew behind.

* * *

Matthew saw Anna move Mary forward as he wrapped up his interview. First, he thought that they were going on to the next assigned reporter, but she seemed to be going past all of them. He wondered if they were running late and perhaps they all had to get a move on. Looking behind him, he saw Natalie chatting away on one of her interviews, and her people weren't hurrying her along. He glanced down at his watch. The film wasn't due to start for another half an hour. What was going on, he wondered, his eyes looking back up ahead to Mary.

"Matthew! Matthew! BBC, Matthew! Please!"

He took one last look at Mary before turning and smiling politely to the reporter, stepping forward as a microphone was shoved towards him.

"How are you? Thank you for coming out," he said.

* * *

From her vantage point just inside the theatre entrance, Mabel saw Mary's assistant moving her along the line, avoiding the media and paparazzi and heading towards the building. Lady Rosamund was standing a few feet away on the other side of the doors, talking into her phone. From the frown on her face and how quickly she seemed to be talking, she was dealing with something serious.

Mabel checked her phone again and smiled when she refreshed her web browser. Looking back up at Mary, she nodded in anticipation.

"You're not running away from this one, bitch," she said quietly to herself, smiling wickedly.

* * *

"Mary!"

"Lady Mary!"

"Mary, just a second, please!"

Mary continued to smile and wave as she kept moving, though inside she was feeling a strange sense of apprehension. Something obviously wasn't right. Not only was it unheard of for Aunt Rosamund to have her skip interviews, but the number of reporters calling out for her seemed wrong. She was only supposed to do three interviews tonight, and the media ought to have known that in advance. Why were so many of them wanting to speak to her?

"Lady Mary!"

She saw her aunt standing near the theatre entrance and she felt a bit better, knowing she would soon have answers to the many questions flying through her mind. She glanced back to see where Matthew was and spotted him a ways back, still answering questions. She hoped that he would be done soon and join her inside. There was no telling what was coming, but she would feel better if he was with her.

"Lady Mary! Do you have any comment on Lord Grantham's affair?"

Her smile wavered for just a moment as she cleared the media pool and finally reached her aunt.

"What the hell is going on?" Mary hissed.

"This way," Rosamund said quickly, ushering her through the entrance and into the building. "There's a car waiting for us at the back. We're getting you out of here."

"What? But why? What about Matthew?" Mary asked in alarm.

"You'll have to speak with him afterwards. You can't stay. The press will be on you the second you leave. Our only chance is to make them think that you stayed for the entire showing," Rosamund said, moving Mary on.

They were so preoccupied with getting to the side entrance as quickly as possible that they didn't notice Mabel standing amongst the onlookers inside the cinema, a pleased smirk on her face.

* * *

Alex was waiting when Matthew finally made it through the red carpet. He pulled him off to the side and out of the way as Natalie and the rest of the invited guests moved on to the theatre to take their seats.

"What's going on?" Matthew asked, looking at his best friend with concern. "Where's Mary and Anna?"

"Lady Rosamund took them to a hotel. Edith too. The press will be staking out Painswick House in less than an hour, probably," Alex said quietly.

"What? Why?" Matthew asked, frowning suspiciously.

Alex glanced around to make sure they weren't being watched, though privacy was hardly going to be a concern soon enough. He took out his smartphone and turned it towards Matthew.

"Look at this," Alex said grimly.

Matthew looked at the screen. The mobile website for The Guardian newspaper was displayed, the headline in large, bold print.

 _'Panama Papers reveal Lord Grantham maintained off-shore bank accounts for Mary Crawley and mistress. Sex tape uncovered.'_


	5. Chapter 5

**Previously:**

 **Empire Cinema, Leicester Square, London, England, March 10, 2017**

Alex was waiting when Matthew finally made it into the cinema. He pulled him off to the side and out of the way as Natalie and the rest of the invited guests moved on to the theatre to take their seats.

"What's going on?" Matthew asked, looking at his best friend with concern. "Where's Mary and Anna?"

"Lady Rosamund took them to a hotel. Edith too. The press will be staking out Painswick House in less than an hour, probably," Alex said quietly.

"What? Why?" Matthew asked, frowning suspiciously.

Alex glanced around to make sure they weren't being watched, though privacy was hardly going to be a concern soon enough. He took out his smartphone and turned it towards Matthew.

"Look at this," Alex said grimly.

Matthew looked at the screen. The mobile website for The Guardian newspaper was displayed, the headline in large, bold print.

 _'Panama Papers reveal Lord Grantham maintained off-shore bank accounts for Mary Crawley and mistress. Sex tape uncovered.'_

 **Chapter 5:**

 **Grosvenor Suite, The Connaught Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, March 10, 2017**

Mary sat on the plush couch, her legs tucked underneath her, a warm quilt across her lap. A glass of vodka and tonic sat in one hand, just a few sips left. It was her second since checking into her room, and definitely would not be her last.

She stared at the white roses in the vase on the coffee table. With the curtains and drapes pulled tight over the windows, this was the only hint of the outside world permitted inside her new lodgings. Aunt Rosamund and Edith were in their own rooms down the hall, all of them exhausted and anxious. There would be a call with her parents shortly, but she had insisted they wait for Sybil to come home from work to join in, and for Matthew to arrive first. In her current mood, no one dared to object.

Her eyes wandered from the glass to her pale hand, her nails painted a daring shade of purple to match her long skirt and high heels. She remembered how giddy she felt just hours ago when she was getting ready, everything about her look orchestrated and planned to perfection. The London debut of _Shattered_ was hardly her first movie premiere, but it felt like her most important. She was returning to her city with her name on the marquee, above the movie title side-by-side with Rick's and Natalie's. She was a headliner. She had come back clothed in triumph, and even better, she had Matthew at her side to share it all with. This wasn't a small event, like a television show premiere or press tour. He wasn't there just as her boyfriend. This was a film from a major Hollywood studio. This was their movie, their moment, and when she walked the red carpet with him just two hours ago, it felt absolutely glorious.

She tried to recall that feeling now, but struggled. It seemed so long ago, already fading into the past, trampled and swept aside by shock, confusion and cold fury.

The rest of the vodka was downed promptly, the empty glass placed on the coffee table next to the white roses and her tablet. She had read over _The Guardian_ article too many times, the very words now imprinted on her memory.

 _'Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham and longstanding member of the House of Lords, has become the most recent prominent figure in England caught by the Panama Papers data leak. As part of its ongoing special investigation, The Guardian has uncovered numerous entries among offshore law firm Mossack Fonseca's leaked database that feature Lord Grantham. The law firm created a network of companies controlled by him based in the British Virgin Islands, Gibraltar and other international tax havens to hold foreign assets. The Earl's holdings include land developments, shares in numerous corporations, and other investments. Of particular note are bank accounts apparently held in trust for his three daughters, including television and film star Lady Mary Crawley.'_

At least _The Guardian_ called her a star, Mary had thought wryly when Aunt Rosamund first showed her the article.

 _'While maintaining off-shore holdings is not illegal in and of itself, Lord Grantham, who was involved in the management of Lady Mary's career when she was first starting out in West End theatre, may have used the offshore accounts to avoid paying taxes on her earnings, which may constitute tax evasion.'_

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, still unable to shake the anger in her chest. From the time they were children, Dad told her, Edith and Sybil that they had trust funds which would be turned over to them when they married. It was rather archaic, dating back to a previous century when the daughters of nobles had settlements given to their husbands. When Sybil married Tom, she took a third of the money and left the rest with Dad. She had just told Mary days ago in New York that she would likely take out more when the baby came. They had no idea where the money was kept or how it was invested, just as Mary had no idea what Dad did with the money from her career. Aunt Rosamund dealt with collecting and distributing all of her money, and Mary never questioned any of it. Between the amount set aside for her from each paycheque and the network and studios paying for her apartment and most of her living expenses, she never had any reason to look into where her money was kept. She just assumed that Dad had squirreled it away somewhere.

And he had. In the British Virgin Islands, apparently.

Getting up from the sofa, she went over to the bar and poured herself another drink. She had so many questions for her parents, and she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answers to them. She hated feeling so helpless and lost, unsure about what was true, what any of it meant. Dad had always paid her taxes, hadn't he? Moving her money off-shore wasn't a crime, was it? Since she didn't know about any of this before, that absolved her of any possible blame, didn't it?

Her eyes looked blankly at the wall as she sipped her drink. She was too incensed to even contemplate the rest of the article and the additional, sordid allegations it contained.

* * *

 _'Lord Grantham, who spent_ _£3.5m funding Nigel Farage's Leave EU campaign group ahead of the Brexit referendum on 23 June, also held significant amounts in a bank account for Jane Moorsum. Miss Moorsum is identified in an internal memo as a former housemaid at Downton Abbey, Lord Grantham's ancestral home in Yorkshire. The Guardian has received information from anonymous sources that Ms. Moorsum was also Lord Grantham's mistress, and this allegation appears to be corroborated by an apparent sex tape of the two of them, which The Guardian is aware of.'_

"Shit," Matthew muttered, shaking his head as he looked at his phone screen, utter disbelief clouding his face.

"Do you think it's true? Any of it?" Alex asked.

"It's in _The Guardian_ so it has a hell of a lot more credence than if it was in _The Daily Express_ ," Matthew said bitterly.

"That's not what I meant," Alex said.

Matthew lifted his head and looked over at him. "Is Robert capable of funneling money off-shore? Of course. Well, he would instruct someone to do it for him, anyway. As for the part about the affair with a housemaid, well, I just don't know."

"Did you know her? Jane Moorsum?" Alex asked.

Matthew nodded grimly. "She worked at Downton when we were teenagers. She's maybe fifteen years older than us? I never bothered to find out what became of her. One summer she was there, and the next summer, she wasn't. She wasn't vital, like Carson or Mrs. Hughes, or at least that's what I thought."

"Maybe Lord Grantham sent her away to hide the affair and bought her silence," Alex suggested.

"It certainly looks that way," Matthew admitted. He stared out the window as the limo passed along The Mall. Normally, it was a ten-minute drive from Leicester Square to The Connaught Hotel, but Anna had instructed the driver to take a circuitous route in case they were followed. While no one knew that Mary and Matthew were dating, it was relatively well known that they were long-time family friends, and so the media could potentially use him to try to find Mary.

He didn't think that anyone had noticed when he and Alex had left the cinema before the movie started, but he couldn't be sure. After the revelations about Robert, he felt unbalanced, off-kilter, his world thrown on its head. Everywhere he turned, things looked strange and suspicious. Were people looking at him because they recognized him from the Armani campaign? Or, did they think he knew something about Robert's scandal? Was anyone even looking at him at all? He felt he couldn't be sure about anything. He just needed to get to Mary. He couldn't begin to imagine what a state she must be in. This made the whole scandal involving Henry seem pedestrian by comparison. This involved her family, the very foundation that she built her life upon. Her career was all-important, and he liked to think that he was vital to her as well, but Mary's family was everything to her. So long as the family was stable, she could do anything. That was now under threat.

She had texted him shortly after he left to tell him what their room number was. There was no mention of anything else. She tended to go into a shell when things were really bad. He just hoped she would let him in, though he honestly had no clue how he could help her.

"We're going to take you in through a service entrance, Mr. Lewis," the driver called. "We're about ten minutes away."

Alex confirmed the plan while Matthew kept looking out the window, trying his best to put his head around a scenario that seemed all the more unbelievable with every passing minute.

 **Townhouse of Dr. Sybil Crawley and Tom Branson, Brooklyn, New York, USA, March 10, 2017**

Tom came through the door, closing and locking it behind him quickly. He took off his coat and shoes, dropping his bag on the floor before taking off upstairs.

"Sybil?" he called.

"I'm in here, hon," she replied.

He found her in the bedroom and went over to her, hugging her tight, closing his eyes as she buried her face in his neck. "Hey you."

"Hi," she answered quietly, clinging to him. "Well, you always did tell me that my family was mad. This just about proves it, I'd say."

"I didn't mean it like this," he said, sighing as he rubbed his hand up and down her back. "I don't even remember who Jane Moorsum is."

"She was one of the maids. She didn't attend to any of us girls so you wouldn't have really seen her," she replied. "I barely remember her myself. God, how could Dad…shit."

He kissed the top of her head as he continued to hold her. "Let's not assume anything until we talk to them. Is everyone around?"

"We're waiting for Matthew to get to the hotel. It just had to be tonight, of all nights, that this fucking thing breaks. This was such a huge moment for him, for both of them. I hate that it's been ruined," she complained.

"I'm sure all he cares about now is how Mary's doing, how you're all doing," he said patiently.

"Did you find anything out?" she asked, her voice breaking. " _The Guardian_ wouldn't just invent something like this, would they?"

"Highly doubtful, yeah," he agreed. "I made a few calls on my way home. They don't actually know if any of it's illegal. If your father paid the necessary taxes, then there's nothing wrong with any of the financial affairs, in theory. There's actually been very few prosecutions arising from the Panama Papers. It's still a thing because no one likes to hear that the rich don't pay taxes."

"Either back home, or here. Well, then all that's left is the matter of my father's adultery," she said bitterly.

"Why would your mum never say anything? Do you think she knew?" he asked.

"I can't imagine how she couldn't. Mum knows everything going on at Downton. The servants are more loyal to her than they are to Dad. Could he have cheated on her without her knowing? Possibly. But to carry on with a housemaid? Mum would have known," she answered.

"Then she covered it up," he stated.

She nodded against his shoulder. "Probably to protect us, to preserve the image of our being one happy, aristocratic family. It's so disgustingly British. Be stoic and bear it, stiff upper lip and all that. God, I love her and hate her for staying with him."

They both looked up as Sybil's phone chirped with a text message notification. She left her husband's hold and went over to the dresser to pick it up.

"It's Matthew," she said, sighing tiredly. "He's there. Hon, can you get us on the call?"

"Yeah," Tom said, grabbing the tablet from the nightstand and playing with the settings to put the video conference on the television screen on the wall.

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, March 10, 2017**

Cora came down the stairs and walked across the Great Hall and into the study. She closed and locked the door behind her, turning to see her husband sitting at his desk, looking thoughtfully at a glass of brandy.

"I don't think you'll find any answers there, darling," she called, coming over to him.

He laughed ruefully. "Here. Whisky and water.

She smiled as he slid a glass across the desk to her. She picked it up and took a sip. "Mmm, that's good. Thank you."

"Mama's asleep?" he asked, still looking away.

She nodded. "She and Isobel turned in shortly after they saw Matthew leave the red carpet. I think they both enjoyed it. It was nice of Mr. Molesely to do that for us."

He nodded.

"Rosamund says they're ready when we are. Matthew's with Mary and Sybil and Tom are at home," she advised.

He shook his head. "So, this is the moment when I transform from hero to villain in the eyes of my daughters. I suppose that may have happened long ago, but this will make if official, definitive."

"Robert," she said sympathetically, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Do you know that none of them chose a man like me?" he mused, his voice wistful. "I'm not like Matthew, not at all like Tom, even Bertie has much better business sense and cares far less for appearances and all that. I never really thought about it until now. They didn't want to spend their lives with a man who reminded them of their father. A rather wise choice, as it turns out."

"Stop," she pleaded, turning him gently to look at her. "I won't let you beat yourself up like this. The girls love you. This won't change that. And I love you too."

He took her hand and kissed it tenderly. "My darling, I do not deserve you. I never have."

"Well, that's just too bad because you've got me, and I'm not going anywhere," she said firmly, smiling and leaning down to kiss him.

"We could potentially save everyone a great deal of grief if you were to come out and condemn me in the press, you know," he said, looking up at her. "It could help."

"Or it might not make a bit of difference, if they have the video that they say they do," she replied. "We always knew this could happen, that it could all come out. We have nothing to be ashamed of, and I won't let you fall on your sword for the rest of us, not when there is no reason for you to do so."

"All right, let's get on with it," he said, getting up from his desk. He held her hand as they went over to the sofa, the television above the mantle already set up for the video conference.

"You make the calls," he said, handing her the tablet. "I never know how to work these bloody things."

She smiled and took the tablet from him. Before beginning the connecting all of her daughters into the conference, she gave him a confident smile. "It's going to be all right, Robert. You'll see."

He nodded, then looked up at the television, dreading what was to come.

 **Deluxe Junior Suite, The Connaught Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, March 10, 2017**

Alex looked up from his laptop when he heard the door lock chime open. He got up as Anna came into the room, giving him a tired smile before she came into his arms and kissed him.

"Hey," he said in surprise. "I thought you'd be with Mary."

She shook her head and kissed him again. "It's a private family matter. It didn't feel right to stay. She'll text me if she needs me, but I expect I won't see her until the morning."

"Will she go to Downton?" he asked.

"I doubt it. It's too dangerous," she replied. "There's media already set up at Painswick House and even though no one can get past the gates at Downton Abbey, the photographers would see Mary arriving. Besides, it's still a huge property. It's impossible to secure that wide an area."

He nodded and released her so she could turn around.

"She'll probably want to head back as soon as possible, rather than stay here and risk being mobbed," she guessed. "I need to find out how far this story has reached and whether it affects the current Season."

"Here. Get out of this and get comfortable, at least," he said. He kissed her neck and undid the zipper of her dress.

"Did you run a bath?" she asked as he helped her out of her dress.

"They have L'Occitane bubble bath, the lavender one that you like," he said.

She stepped out of her dress and turned to face him, reaching up and placing her hands on his cheeks.

"Can you do something for me, babes?" she asked.

He nodded. "Anything, love."

"Find out who did this," she said quietly.

He frowned in confusion. "Well, no one knows who the John Doe is who originally leaked the documents to the press…"

She shook her head. "No, I mean who sent the video to _The Guardian_ , and why did they choose to publish tonight, the same night that Mary had the premiere? They've had access to the Panama Papers database since last year, and they've been investigating Brexit-related politicians and financiers since the summer. They could have found out about Lord Grantham and exposed his financial dealings long before tonight. That anonymous source must have pointed them in the right direction, not to mention sending them the video and turning this into a much more sensational story than it was before. All of it was timed to ensure that Mary suffered as much PR damage as possible. Whether that was done to hurt Lord Grantham or her, I don't know, but I don't think this was a simple protest against income inequality."

"You think that Mary was really the target?" he asked.

She nodded.

"But who would go to such trouble? You don't think Henry is behind this?" he asked.

"I don't honestly know what to believe anymore," she admitted. "I wouldn't have thought Henry was capable of such a thing, but after what's happened, I'm not so sure."

He nodded in understanding.

"You're connected where I'm not – with banks and studios and so on – just see if you can come up with anything, because I imagine that Lady Rosamund and I won't be able to find out much. We'll be too busy doing damage control," she said.

"Will do," he said.

"Thank you so much," she said, hugging him tight. "I love you."

"Love you," he replied. He held her for a bit longer before leading her to the bathroom, hoping a relaxing bath might help them get over what had become a crazy night, and he suspected it was just the beginning.

 **Grosvenor Suite, The Connaught Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, March 10, 2017**

Matthew first thought he would stand during the call. Something about sitting on the couch next to Mary seemed rather melodramatic, as if they needed to be sitting down to deal with some particularly awful news, which he supposed that they were. He didn't know how Mary wanted to approach it. She had a tendency to get up a pace when she was agitated. They both did. Ultimately, thinking that it would be easier for everyone to see him onscreen, he sat down next to her, watching patiently as she called into the video conference.

Lady Rosamund had selected this hotel for its reputation for privacy above all else. There were smaller, lesser known boutique hotels that they could have gone to, and a luxury property the size of The Connaught carried the added risk that a staff member might spot Mary and snitch to the media. Lady Rosamund decided to chance it to ensure that Mary and Edith had proper accommodations. They wouldn't be staying long.

One-by-one the different windows opened up on the television screen. Sybil and Tom. Edith. Aunt Rosamund. Robert and Cora. Terse greetings were given, all of them confirming they could hear and be heard by the others. Shortly all eyes turned to the Earl and Countess of Grantham, everyone wondering what could they possibly say to explain what had happened.

"Firstly, I must apologize for the hardship that you all have suffered tonight," Robert said gravely, looking directly into the camera. "I had no inkling that any of this was coming. _The Guardian_ did telephone the house earlier tonight, but your Mum and I were with your Granny, watching Mary and Matthew's premiere, and so I didn't take the call. I don't believe it would have made any difference. There wasn't sufficient time for Murray to seek an injunction order from the Courts, and I'm sure _The Guardian_ was well aware of that."

Tom nodded imperceptibly, and the others all accepted Robert's explanation for now.

"I'll try and explain where I can," he continued. "I'll answer whatever questions you may have. Let me say first that there is absolutely nothing illegal about the manner in which the money was handled. All of your trust funds were held off-shore to avoid capital gains taxes and benefit from certain investment opportunities – land development projects and the like. When each of you receives the money, as Sybil already has in part, the proper withholdings and payments will be made. It's completely above board, I assure you, and my lawyers and accountants have provided me with opinions in support of that view."

Matthew felt a bit better upon hearing that. He knew that Mary and her sisters didn't really care so much about that aspect of the newspaper article, but it was a relief that Robert hadn't cavalierly tried to evade paying taxes.

"Similarly, Mary," Robert said, looking at Mary's image on the television. "Your earnings have been invested abroad from the beginning. I've made certain that your taxes here, and in Canada and America, have been paid when owed. Your money wasn't kept in England, but that's not tax evasion since you don't work here, and I do not believe that you would ever be prosecuted for…"

"What about Jane Moorsum?" Mary interrupted, her eyes fiery. "How long has she benefitted from your sage counsel?"

Robert recoiled slightly. Sybil and Edith watched closely for his answer.

"Mary," Cora began.

Robert held up his hand to stop her. "You all may remember that Jane was a housemaid here years ago."

"Was that all that she was?" Mary demanded coldly.

Cora looked at her daughter imploringly. Mary ignored her and kept her gaze on her father.

"I am very, very sorry that you all had to find out this way, but yes, it's true. I did have an affair with Jane," he admitted.

Mary raised her chin, anger filling her chest. "While you were married?"

Sybil and Edith were holding their breath. They knew what the answer had to be, but they wanted to hear him say it.

Robert looked at Cora before turning back and answering.

"Yes," he said, nodding his head.

Sybil gasped.

Edith shook her head in disappointment.

Mary closed her eyes for a moment, gritting her teeth so hard that Matthew could hear her grinding them. When she opened her eyes again, they were dark and hard.

"You bastard," she snarled.

"Mary!" Cora exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"Did you know, Mum?" Sybil asked softly.

"Of course she knew!" Mary spat, speaking before her mother could answer. "She knew all about it and never said a word! Never told any of us. She just played the dutiful wife and protected this…this…philanderer…all this time!"

Cora's silence gave everyone her confirmation.

"But you ended it, Dad, didn't you?" Edith asked.

Robert looked at Cora again. She nodded to him.

"Jane ended things," he replied. "She has a son. He's in university now, but at the time, she felt it best that she move to Liverpool to be with him and give him a better life. Working at Downton took up too much of her time, so she resigned."

"Conveniently leaving with a golden parachute provided by the Earl of Grantham, her generous benefactor," Mary said, her voice dripping with contempt. "How much was the payoff? Did you give her more than what you set aside for each of us? Raising a son can be expensive, after all, particularly if he's your heir."

Robert's eyes went wide for a second. Even Tom was shocked by Mary's insinuation.

Matthew slid his hand over and placed it over Mary's clenched fist. She pulled away from him, still glaring at the television.

"Jane moved to Liverpool to be closer to the boy's father and her parents," Cora said pointedly. "We were sad to see her go, but we agreed to it. We provided her with the money to help her in her new life, and the account referred to in _The Guardian_ is an education fund for her son. We didn't want it listed in his name, and thank God for our foresight, otherwise the poor boy would be exposed now."

"Yes, Heaven forbid that an innocent child should have to suffer," Mary said sarcastically.

Sybil frowned at her mother's words. "You were sad to see her go?"

"What does that mean?" Edith chimed in.

"She's just protecting him, like always!" Mary said. "What does it matter why Jane left? Thanks to Dad's wonderful generosity, _The Guardian_ thinks that he's got an off-shore bank account to pay hush money to his mistress, and he may as well have. Calling it an education fund for her son hardly puts a happy spin on things."

Usually when Mary ranted, Edith would distract her, and Sybil would calm her down. Neither could think of anything to say at the moment. She was asking the same questions they had thought of, and saying all the things they wanted to.

"Let's talk about this video now, shall we?" Mary continued, a cruel smile on her lips. "It's not a fabrication, is it? _The Guardian_ wouldn't just make such a thing up."

Robert closed his eyes, frowning at both Mary's tone and the subject matter she raised.

"It's not a fabrication," he said finally, opening his eyes. "I don't know what exactly they have, but there was a video of Jane and I."

"Oh good Lord," Mary groaned, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

Sybil cringed.

Edith just stared in disbelief.

"The video doesn't matter, now that the allegation of an affair has been put out into the public," Rosamund offered. "It isn't as though _The Guardian_ will post it on its website. It used the video to corroborate the allegation of an affair, that's all."

"That's ridiculous and you know it," Mary countered. "We'll be lucky if it's not on some disgusting website by tomorrow morning. Someone sent the video to _The Guardian_ , which means there's at least one other copy out there. Do you think whoever got the video in the first place isn't shopping it as we speak?"

"Murray will be seeking a Court Order tomorrow on an emergency basis to stop publication of the video," Robert said. "We're hoping that will put an end to it."

Mary laughed. "A Court Order? Really? God, no wonder you've been caught out. A Court Order won't do a damn thing. You might stop _The Guardian_ or some other reputable news outlet from using the video, but no Court Order will be able to stop some pervert from putting it up on Reddit, or sharing it across thousands of illegal websites. Ask Jennifer Lawrence how well a Court Order worked for her when her iCloud was hacked. No, Dad, I'm afraid that this wonderful video of your escapades with Jane will be readily available. Our only chance is that people are so turned off by what they see that they delete it straight away."

Robert frowned, trying to keep himself under control.

"Where did you do it?" Mary pressed, her rage so unchecked now that she could taste bile in her mouth. "Was it always a late night tryst in your study or did you spoil her by using one of the guestrooms?"

"Mary, that's enough," Cora warned.

"Mary," Matthew said softly. "Let's just try and focus on…"

"You would have needed a decent amount of space to film the deed," Mary said, ignoring everyone but her father. "No one goes to the Bachelor's Wing, and it's rather far from the rest of the house, so you wouldn't have to worry about being heard or interrupted."

"Mary! Stop!" Cora ordered.

"Is that what happened, Mummy?" Mary asked sweetly. "Did you hear some grunting and groaning one day when the three of us were at school and you went over to investigate? Perhaps you came home early from tea and Dad wasn't as careful as he usually was. Is that how you found out?"

Cora swallowed, shocked and silenced by her daughter's fury.

"You need not speak to your mother like that. This isn't her fault," Robert said firmly.

"On that we can agree," Mary retorted. "It must have been terrible for her to see you huffing and puffing, about to have a seizure. It's a wonder she hasn't needed therapy as a result of witnessing such horrors."

Sybil and Edith stayed quiet.

Matthew took hold of Mary's fist, prying open her fingers and linking them with his. She immediately clutched his hand tight, a tear falling down her cheek.

"You have every right to be angry, Mary," Robert said slowly. "All I can do is tell you how terribly sorry I am and beg for your forgiveness, and that of your sisters. I do not pretend to imagine that it will come in short order, but I do hope that someday you will all forgive me. It is a burden to carry such hate for anyone inside of you. I know this will change all of us forever, and I am deeply sorry for that, but I ask that you try and move past this eventually, more for your own sakes than mine."

"Did you think about us when you were fucking Jane in our home?" Mary seethed. "Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham, Lord of the Manor, Master of all he surveys. You thought you could get away with it, didn't you? Never once did you ever imagine that it would come back to haunt you like this. Never once did you think of the absolute hell it would cause for Mum and us! Dad had an affair with one of the housemaids! It sounds like the plot of a bloody ridiculous television show. I will _never_ forgive you for this! Hate does not begin to describe what I feel for you in this moment, for what I will always feel for you for the rest of my life! Your absolute selfishness has now jeopardized everything that I…"

"Mary, for once in your life, would you please just shut up and listen!" Cora shouted, glaring at her eldest daughter.

Mary's mouth fell open and she looked at her Mum in stunned silence.

"Your father has done nothing wrong," Cora stated.

"Cora," Robert warned.

"The way he was portrayed in that newspaper article was entirely unfair!" Cora kept on. "This family has always been the most important thing in his life. You girls mean the world to him."

"Mum, that's absolute bollocks, obviously!" Sybil cried.

"How can you even say that?" Edith asked, completely dumbfounded.

"I say it because I know the truth! I was there!" Cora answered.

Mary and Matthew both almost choked at what they heard.

"Oh, my darling," Robert said sadly, squeezing his wife's hand and looking at her with sorrow.

The Countess of Grantham lowered her gaze, her voice falling quiet.

"Your father and I both had an affair with Jane. She was dear to both of us," Cora said, clearing her throat and speaking a bit louder. "She was…infatuated with me…and I was intrigued by the thought. I refused to betray your father, and so it was my idea that we would experiment together. There was never anything ugly about it at all. In fact, I still believe to this day that it was beautiful, and I have great affection for Jane. We have kept in touch, and have visited her on occasion, though we have never resumed that part of our relationship. Your father did not cheat on me with Jane. He was only ever with her when I was there."

"I don't fucking believe this," Sybil said, running her hand through her hair.

"Then that video…" Edith said slowly.

Cora looked up and faced her daughters' incredulous stares. "The video is very old, but yes, it's of all three of us together."

Mary covered her eyes with her hand, her other still holding desperately to Matthew.

No one said a word for several minutes. All of them staring blankly at the screen, trying to understand this latest revelation.

"Your mother and I believe that the best thing for now would be to have all of the attention focused on me. Edith, you can remain at the hotel until Bertie returns and you can stay with him. Painswick House will likely be off limits for another week, or so. Sybil, I highly doubt that anyone would track you to New York for comment, so you shouldn't have any problems with the media. Tom, if you could please do what you can to protect her, I would be most grateful. Mary…"

"I can't deal with this," Mary said, not looking at him. She shook her head and got up from the couch, letting go of Matthew's hand and running to the bedroom.

Matthew watched her go, then looked back at the television, everyone looking at him expectantly.

"I believe that Mary will want to go back to Toronto as quickly as possible," Matthew said. "Lady Rosamund and Anna can work with her on how best to respond to _The Guardian_ , if any response at all is warranted. She might be in touch with Sybil and Edith, but for the next while, it may be best if all of you give her some space to sort through this in her own way."

Robert opened his mouth to protest, then just nodded. "Thank you, Matthew."

Matthew nodded. He glanced at Sybil and Edith before picking up the tablet and hanging up the call.

 **The Residences of Maple Leaf Square, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 10, 2017**

"Is it all going as expected?" Tony asked, smiling at Mabel's face on his tablet screen.

"Even better," she replied, grinning as she scrolled through the web pages on her phone. "There's far more comments about Mary than there are about Lord Grantham. The entertainment networks and gossip websites on both sides of the pond have all picked up the story. This is going to have legs, I just know it."

Tony smiled and shook his head at Mabel's obvious glee.

"Any idea where Mary is now?" he asked. "She didn't answer my text."

"Sequestered away somewhere, I'm sure," she said drily. "She'll be flying out soon enough, I imagine. She's due back on set for Monday, yes?"

He nodded. "Yeah. There's been no word that anything's changed with the show."

"I highly doubt it will jeopardize this season, they're already committed to it," she said. "But this will ensure that there will be no Season 6, at least not involving her, and the studios will be wary now, as well. Her name is now synonymous with two of the biggest scandals of the year. It will take a rather brave soul to put her name at the top of a billboard now."

"How was the movie?" he asked.

"It was actually quite good," she said, laughing. "You were right. It was rather clever, and the sex scenes were a tad gratuitous. Matthew looked quite fit, though, my goodness."

"I'll put in a good word for you the next time I see him," he joked. "All right, I'm going to go and grab some dinner. Good night, my dear. Kudos on tonight."

"Good night," she said pleasantly, hanging up the call.

Tony put the tablet down and smiled wide, thoughts and strategies playing through his mind as he turned for the door. Mary would be back in the city soon, and would undoubtedly put her head down and focus on the work to distract herself. That meant she would be spending more time with him than anyone else in the coming weeks. If he was patient and offered his support at opportune times, he could continue to build on the budding connection they were developing. She didn't judge him by their past anymore, of that he was sure. Rather than press and risk putting her off, he had to take his time. She would be frazzled, and soon would be desperate as the career that she carefully built began to unravel. He had to pounce when she was most vulnerable, offer her a lifeline that she could not turn down.

He locked the door behind him and walked down the hall towards the elevators. Taking out his phone, he Googled some local restaurants. He felt like steak tonight, a nice, juicy one.

 **Grosvenor Suite, The Connaught Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, March 10, 2017**

When Mary finally emerged from the bathroom, nothing seemed to be amiss. Her hair was down, her makeup removed, her face scrubbed and clean. She was still wearing the same ripped designer jeans and sleeveless top that she'd changed into when she was rushed to the hotel. Going back out to the living room, she went straight to the bar for another drink.

Matthew met her there and gently stopped her from reaching for the vodka. He handed her a glass of sparkling water with lime instead, and kept her gaze when she glared at him angrily.

"You'll sleep better if you don't have another vodka and tonic, don't you think?" he said, smiling at her.

She didn't say a word and snatched the glass from him, then turned and went back to the bedroom.

After hanging up the video conference call, he had gone after her, only to find that she'd locked herself in the bathroom and ran the shower. Rather than try and talk to her through the door or get her to let him in, he went back to the living room and waited. He himself was still floored by Cora's confession, and he expected that Mary's mind was running rampant with a million thoughts. He thought briefly about whether there was anything that could be dangerous for her in the bathroom, and satisfied that it was fine, he left her in there and waited until she was ready to come out.

She had spent most of the shower crying, pounding her fists against the glass in frustration. The part about the off-shore accounts never troubled her too much. Once Dad said all her taxes were paid, she felt fine, though obviously the perception of her as a spoiled princess would come back with a vengeance. The discovery of her father's adultery was far more damaging. It hit at the very thing that Mary valued above all else – loyalty. She had always had money her entire life. She was always popular, pursued, admired and envied. She wasn't nearly as friendly as Sybil or as trusting as Edith. She was guarded and careful, but once she gave someone her trust, she was steadfast and faithful. Being able to rely on someone was the most important thing in the world, and when she first read _The Guardian_ article, the trust she had given her father her entire life had been shattered.

When the video conference call began, and his face appeared on the screen, looking contrite and a bit afraid, she had only become more angry. She pictured him laughing and joking with his mistress, betraying her mother. She saw Henry and his leering smirk. She saw executives, producers and casting directors plying her with pleasantries and compliments, only to pass her over and hire some other woman. She saw every man who had ever wronged her embodied in her father now.

He never stood a chance.

She didn't contemplate what all of this would mean for her career, at least not fully. She feared it would have a negative impact, but tonight, she was far more focused on letting her father know the cost of what he'd done. She didn't care if she never said a word to him for the rest of her life. Let him see her career blossom from afar. Let him have to hear about her marriage and her children from others, let the last words he ever heard from her be ones of rage.

Then her mother's admission had shaken her to her very core.

It wasn't even the sordid nature of their liaisons with Jane that affected her so profoundly. It was that she didn't know who her parents were anymore. She questioned if she ever did. How could she pretend to know them when she had no idea what they had done, that they were even capable of contemplating such things? Never did she think that her parents had an absolutely perfect marriage, but it was the marriage that she was most familiar with and had influenced her own view of what a marriage ought to be. Now, all that she thought she knew was an illusion compared to the reality.

Her anger was extinguished and replaced by a numbness, a feeling of aimless confusion. She never wanted to define herself only as the eldest daughter of the Earl of Grantham, but that was who she was. Lady Mary Crawley. Tonight, she didn't know who that person was anymore.

She sat on the edge of the large King-size bed, staring down at the carpet.

"Let's just go to sleep," Matthew called, standing in the doorway. "It's late and you can't get much else done tonight. We can try and have a go at everything in the morning."

She looked up at him for a moment, then back down at the carpet.

"I don't think I can sleep," she said quietly.

He came over and sat down beside her, keeping his hands to himself for the moment. She seemed tense, and he wanted to give her comfort, but one touch could set her off, and he didn't want that.

"I know it seems entirely inconsequential, but the fact that your money was handled properly is positive," he offered.

She nodded slowly. "It is, yes."

"I'm still in shock from…the rest of it," he managed. "But seeing as we thought that Robert had had an affair, it's positive that he didn't."

"He did have an affair. He slept with a woman while married to another," she said.

"Yes, well, you know what I mean, though," he said.

She looked at him carefully. "Are you saying everything is fine because Mum was a participant, rather than a victim?"

He looked at her, trying to read her. "Everything isn't fine, no, but it's better than it could have been."

"I'm not so sure about that. It isn't as though revealing that information will improve his public image, or change the narrative of the story. There's plenty of examples of public figures who engaged in rather lurid behaviour, even with the consent of their spouses, and were still crucified in the media," she replied.

"Yes, that's true, but that's for him to deal with. It needn't affect you," he said.

She frowned at him. "It needn't affect me?"

"What I mean is it's not as bad as if he had hidden your money away to not pay taxes and was found out," he explained. "And the part about Jane Moorsum has nothing to do with you, so you can go back to work and not worry about all this."

"And how do you expect me to do that when my family name is being dragged through the mud?" she questioned. "Of course it affects me, Matthew. It doesn't matter where I go. All of this will affect me. It's not as if I'll go back to Toronto and be able to forget about this, will I?"

"No, no you won't," he said, shaking his head and looking away in exasperation.

"God, you have so much to learn," she muttered.

He frowned and turned back to her. "Such as?"

"Such as the fact that in our business, perception is all that matters. The facts, the real story, the truth, none of it means a damn thing compared to what people believe to be the truth. So Dad did nothing illegal, fine. He still deliberately moved my money off-shore to minimize my tax liability. How do you think that will play out? How do you think the average person who watches _Paladin_ or goes to the movies will feel when they learn that the rich girl from England stashed her money in a tax haven because she didn't want to pay her fair share? How do you think I'll be judged when the story in the media is one of selfish entitlement, rather than wise financial planning?"

He looked at her in confusion, trying to understand her point. "That's not the image you want, obviously, but that can change. It isn't as if people hate the top actors for earning tens of millions per film. This is all going to blow over."

"God, Matthew, don't be so naïve!" she snapped. "The public may forget about this eventually, yes, but I'm constantly fighting to ensure that I'm seen in the most positive light – by the audience, by studio heads, by everyone. You saw how Natalie was given the lead role over me. Why was that? Because the studio thought she was the better fit. They thought she was the more bankable star, the lead actress better suited to carry the film. Their perception of the two of us was far different than what the reality is, but that's what they decided. Dealing with all this nonsense isn't going to help me. It's not going to help me build my name to the point that studio executives can't ignore me any longer. It's setting me back."

"Yes, I never said this was a good thing, but I believe you can get through it. And for the record, I'm quite happy that you were passed over for the lead role," he said, giving her a shy smile.

"Can we not make everything be about you just this once?" she grumbled, rolling her eyes.

"I wasn't making it about me," he said defensively. "I was just trying to lighten the mood a bit."

"Well humour isn't going to help me right now, thank you," she said pointedly. "I'm trying to think about how I'm going to react to all this, if I'm going to react officially or not, and what this might mean for my future. You can tell me your jokes when I've got a plan on what to do next, yes?"

He cringed, looking at her as though he had no idea what she was talking about. "Darling, I know you're upset, and you have every right to be, but I'm not the one who did all this to you, all right? I told you that allowing Robert to manage your money was a bad idea."

Her eyebrows nearly shot to the top of her forehead. "I beg your pardon? What are you talking about?"

He blinked. "I told you. I said that you should learn to handle your own money."

"Are you referring to the one time you mentioned to me years ago that I should save my money rather than give it to Dad to invest for me?" she demanded.

"Yes," he said.

"So this is 'I told you so' is it? You think I deserve this. You think this is me getting my comeuppance?" she accused.

"That isn't what I said at all," he stated firmly.

"Do you think that I deserved to be embroiled in Henry's scandal as well? By your logic, if I hadn't gotten involved with him, I never would have been affected by that video of him doing drugs. Is that what you really think?" she asked.

"I'm not blaming you for any of this," he said.

"Then what are you doing? Why are you here? What are you contributing at all to this situation besides delusional optimism and veiled accusations?" she asked.

He stared at her as if he couldn't believe she had just said any of that.

"I'm here for you," he said, anger burning up his insides. "You asked me to be here."

"I asked you to be here. I didn't ask you to tell me that I somehow invited all of this upon me," she retorted.

"I didn't say that you did!" he said sharply, glaring at her, then looking away.

"I'm going to see Anna," she declared, getting up from the bed and heading for the living room.

"All right," he muttered, not bothering to follow.

 **Banh Mi Boys Sandwich Shop, Queen West, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 10, 2017**

Green looked at his phone and smiled as he read the call display. Motioning to his guest that he would just be a moment, he got up and walked outside the busy restaurant and out to the street. Touching his headset, he glanced around before answering the call.

"Anna? Hi," he said warmly.

"Hi Alex. Sorry to bother you on a Friday night," she replied.

"Oh you never bother me. What's up? You all right? Are you back?" he asked, smiling to himself.

"I'm still in London. There's a lot going on over here. Did you hear any news about Mary's family tonight?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. "I get email notifications from _The Guardian_. It's a pretty complicated situation with her father. Tony and I both found out about it separately right around the time the news broke, actually."

"Do you think the network knows?" she asked.

"I'm sure they do. It's all over the entertainment and gossip websites. I didn't see any mention of it on the news shows tonight, but it's spread pretty far," he advised.

"Shit," she said. "I'm just going over different things with Mary now and I wanted to see how the story was playing over there. Look, can you do me a favour and see what you can find out? They might try and sell me and Mary's agent a different story to keep us in the dark."

"I'll see what I can do, but that's going to be hard, Anna," he said. "You know that we all have limited favours, and I'm supposed to be saving mine for when Tony needs them."

"I know," she said. "I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important. I need to know if the network is thinking of canceling this season or changing Mary's character arc because of this. It would affect Tony, too, if they did."

"Anna, I like you a lot, but don't bullshit me," he said, his tone serious though he was grinning widely. "If the show's canceled, Tony will find something else pretty easily. If Mary's arc is changed, or if she's sacked, Tony will likely benefit as he'll be the only lead left. If you want me to do something for you, then fine, but don't use me. Don't pretend that this is anything more than you trying to help your boss out. It doesn't do me any good at all. In fact, I'm risking going against Tony's best interest by doing this. That doesn't mean I won't do it, but don't be fake with me, please."

He smiled as there was a pause on the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry, Alex, really," she said finally. "You're right, of course. But I'm not using you. Mary's not just my boss. She's my best friend, and she's going through a tough time right now and I have to do everything I can to help. So, can you please try and find out what the network is thinking? I know you'd be putting yourself out there. I'm asking you to do it for me, that's it, no bullshit."

"For you, I'll do it," he said, keeping a serious tone while pumping his fist in celebration.

"Thanks, Alex. I really appreciate it. I mean that. I know that I'm asking you for a favour here and I'll owe you one, really," she said gratefully.

"Well, I suppose you're the only real friend I've got here so I can't afford to get on your bad side," he replied, making her laugh. "I'll remind you that you owe me. Don't think that I won't."

"Go right ahead," she said cheerfully. "All right, we should be back on Sunday. Let me know what you find out."

"Will do. Talk soon. Bye," he said, hanging up the call.

He went back into the restaurant and returned to his table, a pleased smirk on his face.

"Good call, I take it?" his guest asked.

"Real good, yeah," he replied.

"All right, I'm out," his guest said. "This is yours. Everything you wanted, made to order. If you need anything more, pills, needles, whatever, just let me know."

He took off his backpack and placed it on the floor underneath the table. Green nodded and kept eating his Vietnamese grilled pork sandwich. He bumped fists with his guest as the man passed him and left. Reaching for his kimchi fries, he smiled devilishly. Anna had turned to him in her hour of need and would soon owe him a favour, one that he planned on collecting.

 **Fitness Centre, The Connaught Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, March 10, 2017**

Matthew grunted as he brought the dumbbells back up above his chest and held them together before slowly moving his arms apart and back down. Breathing deeply, he lifted the weights again, then eased them back down and dropped them on the floor to end his set.

"Lifting without a spot is dangerous, even with the super light weights you're using," Alex said, coming to his side.

Matthew looked up at him with a rueful glance before raising his hand and touching fists with him in greeting.

"Anna kicked you out?" Matthew asked.

"Of course. Mary's with her now. I figured I would find you here," Alex said easily.

"I can't tell you what happened on the call," Matthew said. "Suffice it to say it was quite strange."

"Don't bother, I don't want to know," Alex replied. "All these cheating stories basically go the same way anyway. Must have been rather difficult for you to listen to his explanation, though."

"You have no idea," Matthew mumbled.

"So how long do you have? Is Mary just going to text you when she's done?" Alex asked, picking up the dumbbells and sitting down on the bench next to Matthew's.

"I don't know,' Matthew admitted. "My plan was to just go until I'm exhausted and head back up then."

"Sounds good," Alex said, lying down and beginning his set of chest press.

 **Carlos Suite, The Connaught Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, March 10, 2017**

"I thought that you and Sybil would have called me straight away, or at least texted," Mary said, lying down on the couch.

"We wanted to, but Matthew said to hold off, give you time and space to deal with everything on your own, and eventually you'd reach out to us," Edith replied, sitting down on the nearby chair.

"He did, did he?" Mary said, smiling and shaking her head as she covered her eyes with her hand. "God, he's knows me far too well."

"He knows you better than anyone," Edith replied. "So what's your next move?"

"I'll hang around for another day, then we're flying out Sunday morning, landing in Toronto around noon," Mary said. "I'm back on set on Monday, that is if they don't sack me first."

"Surely they wouldn't?" Edith asked with concern.

"Probably not, but one can't be too sure about anything these days," Mary said.

"Don't I know it," Edith muttered.

"What do you think of it all, honestly?" Mary asked, turning her head to look across at her sister. "Isn't it all just completely insane?"

"Yes, quite," Edith agreed, nodding her head. "However I can't really see any actual wrongdoing in any of it. If the finances were handled properly, like Dad says, then that's fine. As for what he and Mum did with Jane, well, I'm really trying not to think about it, but nothing untoward happened, did it? Yes, they never told us about it. But I'm almost glad they didn't, really."

"Indeed. I almost wish I didn't know," Mary said.

"I suppose we'll see them very differently now," Edith mused. "But in time, I would think we would adjust. It's not as if this incident from their past will define them, will it? At least, not to us."

"No, you're right," Mary said, sighing. "I'm still furious with Dad, though not nearly as much as before. I do think I'm going to ask him to release all of my money, however."

"You will?" Edith asked, looking at her curiously. "But if there's nothing illegal about what he's doing…"

"Oh, it's not that," Mary said, shaking her head. "I just think that I should be more in control of my career, and that means controlling my own money as well."

"That's rather progressive of you," Edith joked.

"Well, Matthew suggested it ages ago, but I never bothered to think about it until tonight," Mary said.

"Ah. Makes sense. Where is he? Back in your room waiting for you?" Edith asked.

"I don't know. We had it out over the whole business with Mum and Dad and I left in a bit of a snit. I haven't spoken to him since," Mary said drily.

"Well that's no good," Edith remarked. "Was it something he said?"

"Yes, but not really. It was more he was the poor soul caught in the blast when I went off," Mary admitted. "He's been getting that a lot lately."

"Well, he's made of strong stuff, especially judging by that shower scene," Edith said casually.

"Edith! That's my boyfriend! I'll thank you not to ogle his body," Mary said firmly.

"Too late. Blame Sybil. She told me to watch out for it," Edith said, laughing knowingly.

Mary rolled her eyes and smiled. "God, the both of you. He can't do any wrong in your eyes, can he? I sometimes think you love him more than I do."

"Don't be silly. You know that's not true," Edith said. "He's a brother to us."

"He's going back to New York for filming. We'll be apart for the rest of the month and here I am picking a fight with him on one of our last nights here. Just brilliant," Mary said.

"Well, I think you can be forgiven after what we went through tonight," Edith said sympathetically. "I wouldn't push your luck though. He's not going to be an unknown actor for much longer. When the movie comes out, he's going to be very popular."

"Good. Then he can find himself a girlfriend who actually appreciates him," Mary complained, sitting up on the couch.

"Too late for that," Edith joked, smiling at her. "He's too far gone now. He's hopelessly and irretrievably in love with you. So just try and be better to him."

Mary got up and went over and kissed Edith goodnight on both cheeks before turning and leaving for her own suite.

 **Grosvenor Suite, The Connaught Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, March 10, 2017**

When Mary got back, she was pleased to see Matthew's trainers on the floor in the foyer. He had gone to the gym, but now he was back. That was good. She didn't want to sit up waiting for him, and she definitely did not want to go to bed without him.

He was lying on the sofa when she came into the living room, eyes closed, his phone on the coffee table within easy reach, just in case she called or texted him, most likely. She came over and sat down beside him, reaching up and brushing his blond hair away from his forehead. She could tell he was awake as she caressed his face, but rather than scold him for holding out for some sort of peace offering, she decided to allow him his small victory.

Leaning over, she kissed him softly, her lips lingering on his just long enough for her to run her tongue just inside his mouth before sitting back up. He blinked several times, focusing on her as a pleased smirk crossed his lips.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi yourself," she answered, her voice rich and soft, her eyes warm. "You went to the gym?"

"With Alex," he said, turning his body towards her, his arm going around her waist. "We actually got a rather good workout in, all things considered."

"Well perhaps you were extra motivated," she noted. "Using your annoyance with me for fuel?"

"I never work out angry, it's not good for your heart," he replied. "And yes, I was annoyed with you, but I could never stay mad at you, not over this. Tonight was horrible for you, I know, and it's understandable that you weren't in a very good mood."

"Still, I shouldn't have lashed out at you, but I'm afraid it's a bit of an occupational hazard that comes with being my boyfriend," she said, smiling at him. "I'm sorry I was a bitch to you tonight, darling. It won't be the last time, I'm afraid."

"I know. It's all right. You won't scare me away with a few harsh words," he said confidently.

"Good. After tonight's confessions, you're all I've got," she said, kissing him again.

"That's not true. You've got plenty, and you're going to get through this," he said firmly.

She nodded, averting her eyes as all the weight of the evening caught up with her.

"You looked great tonight, by the way," she said, looking back at him. "Before all the craziness started, I thought you were handling yourself so well out there. Some of the reporters were swooning over you. You looked quite at ease, comfortable."

"It was going well," he agreed. "I think it was just that it was our third premiere this week and I wasn't as nervous. Mother texted me earlier. She said that Violet saw the arrival and said you looked great, though she wouldn't wear the same colours that you did."

Mary laughed genuinely for the first time in hours it seemed. "Classic Granny. I'm glad she got to see it. I suppose that might be the one blessing in all of this. Thanks to her condition, she won't know about any of this nonsense going on with Mum and Dad."

He nodded sadly in agreement.

"So, have you ever fantasized about having a _ménage à trois_ with me and another woman?" she asked, massaging his scalp lightly.

He huffed, looking at her guardedly. "Don't joke."

"You ought to push for it, you know. Now that we know it's in my genes, I just might agree," she continued, arching her eyebrow at him playfully.

He shook his head. "You're all the woman I need."

"I'll choose to believe you," she said, smiling and leaning down to kiss him. "I'm going to miss you when we head back."

"I'll miss you, too," he said. "But it's only another six weeks, not even two months. We'll both be busy with work. It'll fly by."

She nodded in acknowledgment. "I suppose it sometimes seems as though I take you for granted, and I'm sorry if I do. I don't mean to act as though you're not important. It's actually the exact opposite. I rely on you, darling. I count on you, now more than ever. Who knows what's coming?"

He sat up and stroked her chin before kissing her softly. "I know. I just wish there was something I could do to help."

She smiled at him. "There is, and you're already doing it."

She kissed him, then hugged him close. He pulled her down on to the couch and they snuggled together, hoping that tomorrow would be better.


	6. Chapter 6

**Previously:**

 **Grosvenor Suite, The Connaught Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, March 10, 2017**

"So, have you ever fantasized about having a _ménage à trois_ with me and another woman?" she asked, massaging his scalp lightly.

He huffed, looking at her guardedly. "Don't joke."

"You ought to push for it, you know. Now that we know it's in my genes, I just might agree," she continued, arching her eyebrow at him playfully.

He shook his head. "You're all the woman I need."

"I'll choose to believe you," she said, smiling and leaning down to kiss him. I'm going to miss you when we head back."

"I'll miss you, too," he said. "But it's only another six weeks, not even two months. We'll both be busy with work. It'll fly by."

She nodded in acknowledgment. "I suppose it sometimes seems as though I take you for granted, and I'm sorry if I do. I don't mean to act as though you're not important. It's actually the exact opposite. I rely on you, darling. I count on you, now more than ever. Who knows what's coming?"

He sat up and stroked her chin before kissing her softly. "I know. I just wish there was something I could do to help."

She smiled at him. "There is, and you're already doing it."

She kissed him, then hugged him close. He pulled her down on to the couch and they snuggled together, hoping that tomorrow would be better.

 **Chapter 6:**

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, March 20, 2017**

Anna brushed her wet hair, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The television was playing in the background, the air still warm from her shower. The early morning sun shone in through the windows. The snow had mostly melted this past week and temperatures were sneaking into the double digits. She had learned over the years that while March tended to be mild in the city, April was usually good for at least one decent snowfall. She never trusted that Winter was truly over until at least the middle of next month.

She kept looking at her image, not daring to glance over to the counter on the other side of the bathroom where the small white plastic object sat perched on the marble near the sink. She did a silent count in her head, then glanced down at the timer on her phone, delaying a couple of minutes beyond the minimum wait time, as if taking a bit extra would somehow influence the result.

She and Alex had last made love in London on Saturday night. Sadly, she wasn't particularly into it, her mind still troubled from Lord Grantham's scandal and the damage it might do to Mary. But, she was flying out on the Sunday and Alex was staying in the city for meetings and to begin investigating who might have leaked the story about Mary's father to _The Guardian_. They would be apart for another two weeks so she wanted to get one last session in with him before she went home. As usual, he was up to the task, so generous with her, passionate and aroused, making it seem like the complete opposite of a chore. She felt terrible that she wasn't nearly as good to him in return, but hopefully she would have good news for him today and all their troubles would soon be forgotten.

Turning her head slightly, she switched from the right side to the left, brushing her long, blonde hair with slow strokes. Her period wasn't due for another two days but it was possible that her pregnancy test would return a positive result now if she was pregnant. She didn't have any cramping or other symptoms that her period was about to arrive. Then again, she didn't have any symptoms to indicate she might be pregnant either. Still, she and Alex had sex often enough in the past month that she could have conceived, and she checked every month over several days to find out. Today was the first day.

 _'Big news from the box office this weekend. The live action adaptation of Disney's Beauty and the Beast beat industry predictions, opening with a robust $72 million three-day total. This marks the fourth biggest March opening for Disney, who last March had Zootopia open to a $75 million take.'_

She didn't bother looking up at the television. The timer on her phone reached five minutes and beeped in warning. Putting her hairbrush down on the counter, she closed her eyes and swallowed.

"Please, please, please, please, please…" she prayed, her pulse jumping as the words tumbled from her lips.

 _'The surprise of the weekend though was the drama Shattered, starring Rick_ _Yune, Natalie Dormer and Mary Crawley. The film, about a married couple who cheat on each other, opened to a shocking $35 million total, good enough for second place, sending last weekend's number one movie, Kong: Skull Island, plummeting down to third.'_

Anna opened her eyes and took a deep breath. Rising from her chair, she walked over to the counter and picked up the home pregnancy test. Her pulse raced as she turned it over and read the digital reading, holding her breath as she read the result.

 **Not Pregnant**

 _'Shattered has already far exceeded its modest budget and all industry estimates, and may become that rare movie that tops the $100 million mark that isn't a superhero film or animated movie.'_

Anna exhaled, her shoulders sagging. Her face cringed, her hand tightening around the traitorous pregnancy test, her fist shaking with rage and despair. She groaned in frustration and threw the test in the bin. Her frazzled eyes found her reflection in the mirror and she stared as if somehow the woman looking back at her would have an answer, some explanation as to why she had failed time and time again. Throwing her arms up hopelessly, her lip quivered as she felt tears gather. In the beginning, Alex would wait for her in the bedroom to come out and let him know what happened with each test. After several months, he stopped waiting, guessing correctly that she would rather be left alone to deal with the test so as not to have to bear the weight of his expectations. Lately, he didn't even ask if she had taken a test, though he surely knew what her schedule was. She was glad he wasn't home today so she wouldn't have to pretend that everything was all right. Spinning away from the mirror, she stumbled over to her chair and sat down, her legs feeling weak and rubbery. Bending over, elbows on her knees, she held her head in her hands and sobbed.

 **Pinewood Studios Toronto, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, March 20, 2017**

"You had the soldiers spare those women," Tony stated, circling around Mary, who stood tall and rigid in the centre of the room. "The ones who refused their assignments."

"The ones who you assigned to entertain your guests for the night," Mary replied, staring straight ahead, just above and to the left of the camera. "Some of them were barely teenagers, Lord Sunder."

"Yes, they were. Some of my guests have particular tastes," he said, running his fingers along her shoulder, causing her breath to catch. "I was…humiliated before some very influential people. But then, you knew that would happen. You knew exactly what you were doing, didn't you, Empress Jade?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I was saving my people. Our pact is that you are to leave them alone. You had no right to force those girls to…"

"Our pact is that you are to obey me, without question," he said coldly, moving around her once more, his eyes drifting down the dip of her bodice. "You are well aware of the penalty for betrayal. If I didn't know any better, I would almost think that you defied me on purpose, just to force my hand."

"I have no fear of you, or your pathetic threats," Mary retorted, still not looking at him. "My very presence here with you is a punishment. What's a little bit more?"

He laughed darkly as he came to stand in front of her. Reaching out and seizing her chin in his firm grasp, he forced her to look at him, his lecherous gaze moving to her dark red lips, then back up at her defiant eyes.

"We shall see just how much you can take," he rasped. "You will be brought to my chambers this evening to be punished on behalf of your people. Wear your green dress – the one that Frederick gave you. It's a personal favourite of mine."

"Don't you dare utter his name!" Mary hissed through her clenched teeth, his fingers holding firm to her jaw.

"Emperor Frederick, or more accurately, the late Emperor Frederick, is no longer here," Tony snarled. "He's dead, and I'm alive. Be as stubborn as you like, put on your strong front if it suits you. Take all the time you need. Two years. Three. I don't care. In the end, you will submit to me, Jade, and you know it."

"And cut!" the director called. "Great job, everyone!"

Tony released Mary immediately and stepped back. "You all right?" he asked with concern, glancing at her face.

"Fine," she said nodding her head and giving him a polite smile. She glanced around as the crew began breaking down the set to get ready for the next scene. "That was well done."

"I hope so. I don't think I could run it too many more times," Tony admitted with a sheepish smile. "Lord Sunder can be a bit of a bastard. Being him for overly long isn't very pleasant."

"Oh don't worry about any of that, Tony," she said, turning and walking with him off the set. "He's supposed to be rather dastardly, and you're playing him as such."

"Yes, and it is fun to play such a despicable character, but a break every once in a while helps," he said. "I'm not a method actor, Mary. Behaving badly has no appeal for me."

Anna came forward and handed Mary a bottle of water.

"Well, I'll see you this afternoon, then," he said, nodding to Mary and Anna before leaving for his own trailer.

"That was rather intense," Anna noted, watching him go.

"It was, but Tony was quite good, I thought," Mary noted, sipping her water. "He just got on with the scene exactly as we rehearsed it, no embellishing, no holding back. I must admit he's been very easy to work with, much to my surprise."

"The two of you spent quite a lot of time preparing that scene," Anna said.

"Well, you know how it is. With the condensed filming schedule, we're under a lot of pressure to plough through as many pages as possible each day. It's not particularly my idea of fun to spend my evenings going over lines with Tony, but I can't say he's been anything other than professional about it. His work ethic is quite impressive, actually. It's obvious that he's been putting in the hours," Mary admitted.

"I'm glad, for your sake," Anna said. "Things have gone quite smoothly since we got back."

"They have," Mary agreed. "Navigating the paparazzi every morning and evening is annoying, but tolerable. I keep expecting to get strange looks from the crew or anyone who's read about Dad and his troubles, but so far it's been all status quo."

"Actually, Alex told me that Tony spread the word that you weren't to be bothered," Anna said.

Mary frowned at her in confusion. "Alex? Oh, you mean Alex Green, Tony's P.A.?"

Anna smiled. "Yes, him, not Alex Alex."

"Not your Alex," Mary teased.

"No. Anyway, apparently before we returned, Tony was on set and let it be known that no one was to bring up the _Guardian_ article to you and to not gossip about it either," Anna advised.

"I'm shocked that he has that kind of pull," Mary said, blinking at the new information.

"Well, we're a close-knit gang so I doubt anyone would have mentioned it anyway, but he made sure. He's grown in influence since he's been here. He is the lead actor, after all," Anna said.

"Indeed. Well, I wouldn't expect that from him, but I'm grateful," Mary said. "I'm going to have a bit of a kip. Wake me up in an hour?"

"Yes, ma'am," Anna said formally, smiling as Mary gave her the infamous arched eyebrow of disapproval and disappeared into her trailer.

* * *

"So, what's my reward gonna be?" Green asked, smiling as he sat down across from her.

Anna smirked and took another bite of a carrot stick. She took her time in answering, looking around the cafeteria casually before returning to his confident face. "Reward? For what, exactly?"

"For doing you a favour, of course," he replied smoothly. "You did say that you would owe me, didn't you?"

She smiled and shook her head. "I would only owe you if you actually found out anything useful. Are you saying you've found out something useful?"

He grinned and looked down at his food, deliberately not answering as he cut into his pork chop.

"Well?" she asked.

He took a bite of the meat and chewed far longer than necessary before swallowing, pleased at her impatience. "Have you found out anything useful?"

"No," she grumbled. "Lady Rosamund is getting the run around and none of my contacts knows anything definitive."

He smiled in triumph, then leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "After much deliberation, the network is going to stay the course. Season 5 will be completed with a full episode order, and Mary's arc isn't changing. They're still going to use her as the principal focus of the story, and they still intend to use the same marketing plan with her at the centre of it."

Anna blinked, her mouth opening in surprise.

"You're welcome," Green said smugly, sitting back up and resuming his lunch.

"How did you find that out?" she asked him.

"I have my ways," he said easily. When she continued to watch him expectantly, he chuckled and took a sip of his Pepsi. "My insider sent me a meeting memo summarizing their decision. I'll forward it to you. You can even take the credit for finding it, if you like."

She smiled, her eyes lighting up with relief. "Oh God, that's amazing! I thought that they'd give us a stern warning, or something; at the very least try and make it known that Mary was on thin ice."

"They still might, but it'll just be bluster. Short of getting herself in even more trouble, she's safe," he said.

"She'll be so pleased," she said, nodding her head. "Thank you, Alex. You really came through for me. You do deserve a reward."

He laughed and shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Anna. Glad to help."

She blinked, looking at him suspiciously. "Now that's a surprise. I would have thought you would want something from me in return, rather."

"I never said that I didn't," he replied. "However, for now, it's enough that you appreciate my effort. I'll save the reward for another time. You owe me one. That's quite a valuable thing to have in my back pocket."

She laughed and took a forkful of her salad.

"I was going to ask you about something Tommy mentioned to me," he continued. "I know what April Fool's Day is, naturally, but what exactly is April Fool's Night?"

She rolled her eyes and swallowed before answering. "He got to you, did he? April Fool's Night is a bit of a tradition around here. The crew all goes out at night and there's usually some sort of hijinks involved. It's just an excuse to get piss drunk, especially this year since it's a Saturday night and we have Sunday off."

"An excuse to go out drinking. Sounds like my kind of night," he joked. "Well, that should be fun."

"It's a good time, yeah, but I don't know if I'll be going this year. I won't be drinking so not much point coming out," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Oh come on now," he said, scoffing at her. "The point is to just have a good time and bond with the crew. Drinking helps, but it's not required, right?"

"No, but still, when everyone else is doing it," she said.

"Look, I'll make sure no one pressures you into drinking that night, all right? I'll even cut back myself so you don't feel left out. We can share bottles of sparkling water all evening. Just come. I need you there to tell me what everyone's bloody names are," he said.

She laughed. "Maybe. I'll think about it."

"You do that," he said, nodding his head before stabbing into his vegetables.

 **Nino's Restaurant, Upper East Side, Manhattan, New York, USA, March 23, 2017**

Sybil smiled and kissed the host on both cheeks. The old man ushered her and Matthew to a table near the kitchen, raving to her in Italian. Matthew caught the odd _'bella donna'_ and _'genio'_. He kept quiet, smirking as the old man showed them to their table, then clapped his hands and disappeared into the kitchen barking out orders.

"Should I tell Tom that he has a rival?" he joked.

"Shut your face," she said. "Gianluigi is a sweetheart. A bunch of us come here a few times a month because it's so close to the hospital, so he knows us."

"Right," he said, smiling to himself.

"And he respects the fact that I'm a doctor, rather than obsess over my looks, like most men," she said, rolling her eyes.

He eased back his amusement when he saw her annoyed look. "All right, fine. What's good here, anyway?"

"Gianluigi will have something brought out, probably a starter, then pasta. I never order from the menu," she said casually.

A young waitress came over and smiled at Sybil in recognition. She poured them both glasses of sparkling water and left a dish of lime wedges on the table before leaving.

"So how are you doing?" Sybil asked distractedly as she squeezed a lime wedge into her water.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he replied, dropping a lime of his own into his glass. "How are your parents?"

"Fine, all things considered," she said, sighing resignedly. "Dad's been having Murray run back and forth to Court getting more publication bans, but it seems things have died down a little bit. Downton isn't constantly under watch anymore, and Edith's moved back to Painswick House. I haven't spoken much to Mum. I suppose I will at some point, but she'll want to clear the air and I'm just not ready."

"Neither is Mary," he said wryly. "She's sent a few texts, but that's about it."

"I'm not judging them, not really, anyway. It was years ago and everything was…consensual…apparently. I suppose I'm relieved that Dad didn't actually cheat on Mum. The whole thing is just…mad…and it'll be a while before I can actually deal with it."

"It is," he agreed. "But everything will work out eventually. For now, you can be angry and confused and anything else you want to be. It's fine."

"I've been doing a lot of yoga," she complained. "It hasn't helped much."

"Well, I'm sure it's good for the baby. Keep you flexible," he said.

She smiled and put her hand on her flat stomach. "So, what about you?"

"What about me?" he asked, looking down at the table. "Same old, you know."

She arched her eyebrow questioningly. "Matthew? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said plainly.

"Matthew…" she prodded him. "You know that you're a terrible liar."

"Just around you," he said petulantly.

They shared a knowing glance.

"This week has been…difficult," he explained. "I had this whole scene worked out in my head for how I wanted my character to react to a certain situation. I planned it out, rehearsed it, even ran it by a few people, but when it came time to shoot, Marty – Mr. Scorsese – he didn't like it. He asked me to do it completely differently and I felt that all my preparation had been useless."

She looked at him carefully, trying to work out the problem. "And?"

"And, well, we got through it, but I just feel kind of lost, as if I'm seeing something in the script that no one else is. Usually I have a good read on the character I'm playing and what the scene requires but this movie is a whole other level, a big step up. I'm working with Bob and Al, and all these incredible actors, and it's a bloody Scorsese mob movie. I feel as if I'm just floundering a bit, as if I don't really belong," he admitted.

"It is a big step up for you," she acknowledged, making sure he was looking at her. "But you can do this, Matthew. People who have been in the business far longer than you, chose you from however many dozens, hundreds of other actors who wanted to play this part. You've already made it. You don't have to stress about whether you belong, or not. It's just a matter of taking your chance now."

"Right," he said tiredly. "That's what Mary says."

"Well she's right, clearly," she confirmed. "Just don't take everything so personally. You've chosen a profession where all you do is constantly repeat the same task over and over until someone arbitrarily says it's good enough. Failure is literally built into the process."

He arched his eyebrow and looked at her curiously. "Sure, that's true. What…where did you come up with that?"

"What do you mean 'where did I come up with that'?" she asked, looking at him in disbelief. "It's a perfectly reasonable comment."

"Yes, it most definitely is. It's just rather philosophical and profound, is all," he explained.

"I can be profound," she said.

He smirked. "Yes, darling, of course you can be. I was just surprised, is all, but of course you're right. I need to just not worry so much."

"Yes, you do, and not just about the movie either. You could stand a decent bit of living in the moment," she said, smiling at him.

"I do live in the moment," he countered. "I just like to know what's coming next, is all."

She laughed as the waitress brought out a platter of prosciutto, melon, cheese and crostini.

"You don't need to impress her, you know," she said, wrapping a piece of melon in the prosciutto and bringing it to her plate.

He frowned. "What?"

She looked at him pointedly. "Mary. You don't need to impress her. You don't need to be better than Henry, or Tony, or Tom Hiddleston, or whichever actor you might think she finds fit and talented. You're not in competition with them."

"What about that dodgy Jonathan Rhys-Meyers?" he asked knowingly.

She smirked. "Mmm, I would so have his babies. God, he's hot."

He rolled his eyes. "Geez."

"That's what you get for gossiping with my husband," she threw back at him. "Look, you ought to know better than most that Mary doesn't care about all of that. She'd rather have her own money, her own career, her own fame, her own ambition than rely on a man for any of that. She doesn't want you or anyone to give her a position, or a life. You already give her what she wants in a man. You make her happy, even if she doesn't say it nearly as often as she should."

"Any man can give her loyalty and support. Those are so basic," he complained. "What if she finds someone who does those things and is also famous and a bloody millionaire, someone who doesn't have to audition for small roles and is better for her profile?"

She shook her head in amusement. "And what if you find someone who's nicer, and kinder, more supportive of your career and doesn't shut the world out whenever she needs to focus on work?"

He scoffed. "I'm not looking for anyone else, Sybil."

"Exactly," she said smugly. "I don't know what the future holds for you two, darling. I know what I want it to be, but I don't know how it will turn out. What I do know is you're going to drive yourself mad and work yourself ragged if you think that you need to do anything just to appease my sister. If you start overthinking, overacting your scenes because you want to be noticed more and that will help you with her somehow, or if you choose your next job based entirely on whether it will boost your profile, or whatever, you'll have weeks like you did this week, where you can't just focus on the work and do your best. Things are working out for you now because of all the hard work that you put in before, not because you wanted to impress Mary. Don't change now just because you think the stakes are higher."

He looked at her for a moment, weighing her words as she snacked on a crostini with parmiggiano reggiano. "Easy for you to say. If you decided to give up your job, Tom would probably be elated."

"At first, maybe, but he knows I'd be miserable if I just stayed home raising children," she replied. "Anyway, there's no danger of that happening. Daycare in New York is ridiculously expensive so I'll be working for quite a while. I'm barely taking much of a mat leave because it isn't as long here as it is back home."

"I'm sure you could find a nanny in London," he suggested playfully, popping a piece of melon into his mouth.

She rolled her eyes. "We're not moving anytime soon, not after what's happened. That's just what I need. 'Dr. Crawley? Oh, are you related to Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham? The one who had a threesome with his wife and a housemaid'?"

He cringed and groaned in protest. "Sybil! We're eating."

"Sorry," she apologized. "That disgusted me too. Thankfully my cravings ensure I never lose my appetite."

He laughed and nodded.

"Matthew, this whole mess with my parents, it's not going to hurt Mary, is it? I mean, it's not as if she was involved directly," she asked, her voice tinged with worry. "It doesn't look like the authorities are going to investigate the off-shore accounts, so it should all fizzle out and things will go back to normal, right?"

"I hope so, but it's hard to say. For now, she's got _Paladin_ until June. I expect your aunt Rosamund will line something up for her as soon as she can. The studios know what Mary can do. Talent should win out in the end," he said.

She nodded. "Well, being in a movie that might clear $100 million has to help."

"It would certainly help the both of us out if it did," he remarked. "It's the kind of accomplishment that really grabs the attention of studios, when you can say you've been part of such a big success, and an unexpected one, at that."

She looked at him appraisingly. "You were in _Shattered_ too? Oh, right. Sorry, I just didn't recognize you with your clothes on, is all."

He rolled his eyes as the waitress brought out their pasta.

Sybil smiled and began serving herself some spaghetti Carbonara.

 **Mobar, Mandarin Oriental Hotel New York, Central Park West, Manhattan, New York, USA, March 24, 2017**

Rosamund took a sip of her Cosmopolitan, glancing out from her booth to the large floor-to-ceiling windows and across to the elegant bar. This was a bit of a hidden gem in the city, a place she could go to in the afternoon for a good drink and some welcome privacy. The staff knew her here, and left her alone. It helped sometimes to get out of the office.

Especially on what was turning out to be a horrid day like today.

She looked at her mobile sitting on the table before her, then turned away and had another sip of her drink. The first signs of trouble were a few curt emails sent to her in the morning, developed into something far more serious with some abrupt voicemails received around noon and now her calls weren't being returned. It was barely past mid-morning in Los Angeles, so there was still quite a bit of time for her to salvage the situation, but she needed someone, anyone, to return her bloody phone calls.

The sudden vibrating of her phone on the sleek table almost made her drop her Martini glass. Setting it down gently, she checked the call display and cleared her throat before answering.

"Ryan, hello," she said pleasantly.

"Hi Rosamund. I don't have much time but I saw that you called again so I wanted to get back to you. What's up?" he asked quickly.

She frowned. This wasn't a good start. Usually Ryan liked to have a bit of a chat before getting straight to business. "I was just calling to follow up on Mary's meeting for April. I thought I'd have the agenda from your office by now but it seems that I don't."

"Yeah, well that meeting's canceled," he said plainly.

She blinked, her frown deepening. "Is there a scheduling conflict? I can give your assistant fresh dates," she offered, trying to deflect.

"It's canceled, Rosamund. You heard me. Look, I need to go. We're not using Mary on this one. Bye," he said.

"Ryan, hang on, please," she said, swallowing and closing her eyes, annoyed at how her request sounded too much like a plea. "Since I've got you on the line, why don't we just set up a general meeting for Mary, not for any specific project but a…lunch…where we can go over some ideas and see where she might fit?"

He sighed audibly and mumbled something to a staff member.

"Rosamund, listen, you and I go back a ways. I don't need to spell this out for you. We're not working with Mary, not now, most likely not for a long while. That's two major scandals that her name has been mentioned in over the past three months, and that's two too many as far as we're concerned," he said.

"Yes, I appreciate how that might look, however surely you understand that Mary had nothing to do with either of those unpleasant situations. _Shattered_ has placed top 3 two weekends in a row, exceeding all expectations both domestic and worldwide. I think that she can distance herself from any negativity," she struggled.

" _Shattered_ was basically an ensemble movie. Natalie's the lead, not Mary. We have no history of her carrying a film with any significant budget. What we do have is her boyfriend was a pompous prick who did meth when he was supposed to be filming a Marvel movie, and her name attached to the Panama Papers investigation, of all things. We put her name on one of our movies and the first thing anyone thinks of is a spoiled, rich bitch who does drugs, cheats on her taxes and is just playing at acting for fun. How am I supposed to pitch that to investors, let alone the rest of the Board? Come on, Rosamund, you're smarter than this. You know how this goes," he said.

"Ryan, you know as well as I do how talented, and dedicated, and disciplined…" she tried again, keeping her tone professional even though panic was beginning to build inside of her.

"Yeah, I know," he interrupted. "I've heard nothing but good things about Mary from within the industry. But the industry doesn't buy movie tickets. The industry doesn't sell product. The industry doesn't get me the margins I need. Stars sell movies. She's not a star. She might have developed into one eventually. But not now. Not after all this. She's damaged goods, and I'm not risking my studio on the chance she might redeem herself."

"Everything is still fresh, though. You know how the news cycle goes. Once we hit the 4th quarter and the next season of _Paladin_ premieres, then…" she said.

"The last season of _Paladin_ , you mean," he said. "That show's done without Henry. I hate his guts but he still sells. You're not getting a Season 6, I'd bet a year's worth of alimony payments on it. So you can't ask me to go with Mary on a movie that would drop right after _Paladin_ is over. If her reputation doesn't recover in time, then I've got a movie that's unmarketable. Rosamund, it's too bad, okay? I like her. I do. But she's of no use to me right now. She's a Kardashian, pretty much. I can't use her because no one will take her seriously. No one is going to pay attention to what she's doing, the character that she's playing. All they'll see when they look at her are these scandals. I can't have that distraction in my films. Have her go the indie route, maybe. A couple of years at Sundance, an award or two, and maybe she'll build things back up again, and then we can talk. But as far as the rest of this year and next year, we're not in the Mary Crawley business. Now, I'm always happy to take your calls, but don't bring this up again. Bye."

He hung up before she could reply. "Bye," she whispered, putting her phone down.

"Another, Lady Rosamund?" the bartender called, looking over at her expectantly.

She turned and swallowed, trying to compose herself. "Vodka neat, please. Make it a double."

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, March 26, 2017**

"Love, where are you? I thought you'd be home when I got here," Alex asked, his annoyance coming through in crystal clarity through her headset.

Anna closed her eyes and frowned. "I know, babes, but we've got a crisis here, sadly. There were all these meetings that Lady Rosamund set up for Mary for next month, all for different movies that she might pick up for when _Paladin_ finished. All of them were cancelled, apparently because of the scandal involving Lord Grantham. She's absolutely crushed."

"Damn," he said. "Okay, you're right. Mary needs you. Take all the time you need."

"Thanks," she said, still cringing. "How did things go in London?"

"Good and bad," he answered. "I'm no closer to finding out who sent the tape to _The Guardian_. I spoke to Jane Moorsum and she's devastated by all the coverage. The thing is she never had a copy of the tape herself, so it couldn't have been her. However, a couple of years ago, Robert had the tape transferred to a digital copy. Apparently he wanted to be able to watch it on his computer and his phone."

"Eww," she groaned.

"Yeah, it was a pretty awkward conversation that I had with him, put it that way. But, it means that someone could have just stolen it from the Cloud," he explained.

She blinked. "He was hacked?"

"He doesn't know. He doesn't think so. I couldn't look into it without going to Yorkshire and inspecting his devices, but I got him to promise he'll hire a forensics company to go over it all and see if they can find anything. If we were to find signs of a hack, we might be able to trace it, but that's all speculation right now," he said.

"Right. So we're basically no better off than we were," she remarked.

"Hey, we're a bit better off, okay?" he said firmly. "Before you didn't know shit about what happened. Now we have a few theories, at least."

She closed her eyes and frowned. "Babes, I didn't mean that you didn't do a good job. I'm just saying that it's frustrating to not know what happened, or who wanted Mary punished so badly to go to all this effort."

"Yeah, anyways, they should be able to find any security deficiencies with Robert's devices. I also told him to go over his itinerary for the past few months, retrace his steps to see if he came into contact with anyone unexpectedly or out of the ordinary. I've gotten nowhere trying to get information out of _The Guardian_. They'll go to jail before they reveal a source. That's means Robert and Cora are all we've got," he said.

"Right. Well, keep at it, then. Hopefully something comes up," she said. "Look, babes, I'm going to stay here for a few nights, just to make sure Mary's all right. With the filming schedule packed, Matthew in New York, and the way things are with her family right now, I don't think I should leave her alone."

She was met with silence. She bit her bottom lip, waiting for him to respond.

"Alex?" she asked worriedly.

"Yeah. Umm, yeah, sure. That's a good idea. Wouldn't want Mary to be on her own right now. Who knows what she'll do? I'm sure Matthew will appreciate you helping out, too," he said, trying to sound reasonable. "When do you think you'll come by to pack a bag?"

"Oh, I already did," she answered, then silently cursed herself for how that sounded. "I just threw a few things together to make it through the week. I don't know how long she needs me to stay, but just in case."

"Ah, I see," he said evenly.

"Erm, yeah, so I'll call you later, all right? We can talk right before I go to bed. You know how your voice helps me fall asleep so much better," she stammered.

"Sure. Just call me," he said, his voice sounding indifferent and detached.

"I will. I love you," she said, her chest tightening.

"Love you, too. Bye," he said, hanging up the call.

She took her headset out of her ear and covered her eyes with her hand, rubbing her temples. He was mad, and hurt, and confused, and he had every right to be.

"Anna," Mary called from the living room.

She opened her eyes and wiped them quickly, sniffling a bit before composing herself and heading down the hall and into the living room to join Mary on the couch.

"Why don't we binge _Stranger Things_ tonight?" Mary asked cheerfully. "I need to get caught up and something tells me it will go really well with vodka."

Anna laughed and nodded. "I'll make the first round."

"Alex wasn't too bothered about you staying over, was he?" Mary asked, swiping her fingers across her tablet and opening up the Netflix app on the television on the wall. "It's fine if you don't. I just think it's more efficient for us to get to set with the night shoots this week."

"Yeah, he was fine with it. He's used to my schedule getting out of control sometimes," Anna replied.

"Good," Mary said, staring at the large screen as she scrolled through the different movies and television series on offer. "At least one of us has her life under control."

"Yeah," Anna said quietly, pouring two vodka and tonics. She added lime and lemon and brought the drinks over to the couch.

"Mmm, perfect, thanks," Mary said, accepting the glass and taking a sip right away.

"What did Matthew say?" Anna asked, making herself comfortable on the couch.

"Exactly what I expected he would. He was angry, but he told me to just focus on _Paladin_ for the moment and that it was Aunt Rosamund's job to find me something, which is true. As troubling as this all is, I just don't have time to even think about it right now. I'm always telling Matthew to focus on the task at hand, so he threw that back in my face, quite gleefully, I might add," she said.

Anna smiled and nodded. "Good advice."

"It is," Mary agreed. "I just wish he were here to deliver it in person. No offence, Anna."

"I get it," Anna said, smiling and nodding.

"Anyway, nothing we can do about it right now. Besides, it could be a blessing. With you taking time off for the baby in the near future, it might be all right if I don't work for a little while, step back and have a bit of a break," Mary said, trying to sound optimistic.

"Yeah, true," Anna mumbled.

"God, I envy you," Mary said, returning to her tablet to find _Stranger Things_ season two so they could watch it. "Your husband is back now. At least one of us will be able to break the curse of forced celibacy soon."

"Yeah. Lucky, that's me," Anna said softly, taking a sip of her drink.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, April 1, 2017**

Alex ran the razor blade across his chin with smooth, sharp strokes. He rinsed the blade under the running tap, then patted down his skin with a soft towel before applying moisturizer. He rubbed his fingers over his face, turning his head so he could check his reflection in the mirror to make sure he didn't miss anything. Shutting off the tap, his eyes wandered to the other sink next to his, Anna's sink, and he paused for a moment. She always kept her side of the bathroom in pristine condition, everything properly organized and put away. You could never tell whether she'd just been here or been gone for days, the counter was so sterile. Exhaling a long breath, he spun away and headed for his closet to change. On the way, his phone rang with Bon Jovi's _You Want to Make a Memory_ , and he looked up in surprise. Heading over to his nightstand, he grabbed his headset and answered the call.

"Hi."

"Hey," Anna said.

"Done work for the day?" he asked, going into his closet and grabbing fresh underwear from his dresser.

"Yeah, only just. I got back to Mary's a little while ago," she said.

"Nice. The two of you grabbing dinner?" he asked, removing the towel from his waist and setting it aside.

"No, she's just going to stay in. I've got that thing with the crew tonight," she said.

"Ah, right. April Fool's Night, a _Paladin_ crew tradition," he said, trying to sound casual. His eyes wandered to the full length mirror and he looked at his naked body. _God, he missed her_.

"Yeah. I don't really want to go but everyone's begging me to, and have to keep up appearances," she said, sounding a bit annoyed.

"Maintaining morale is important," he agreed, turning around and putting on his underwear.

"What are you doing tonight?" she asked.

"There's those investors in from Hong Kong," he replied. "Some of the partners want to show them around so we're having dinner, then going to a lounge, or vodka bar, or something like that."

"Oh," she said. "I didn't know they were staying the weekend."

"Yeah, they're going to New York next week so they decided to stay here rather than fly down early. They like the scene here more. Considering how much money we made off of them this week, we're not going to spare any expense tonight," he said.

"Ah," she answered. "Did you get a chance to talk to them about Mary?"

He shook his head ruefully. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. It's a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy from their end. They don't really care who's in the movies, but they want the film to be profitable, obviously. So, they rely on the studios to make the recommendations. They wouldn't necessarily forbid anyone from using her, but obviously if the project doesn't make money, they hold the studio responsible."

"So if the studio decides that she's a risk, they won't recommend using her, and the investors won't overrule them because they don't care either way, as long as the picture turns a profit," she grumbled. "We're still stuck, then."

"I think that if Mary was more established and had more of a box office track record, then maybe someone would push for her. If an investor found out she was attached to a project, then they might be more enthusiastic because of her name, but if it's between Mary and another comparable actress that the studio is recommending, they're not going to say 'no, we want Mary Crawley for that'," he said.

"Great," she muttered. "God, this is so unfair! She didn't even do anything, but she's the one being punished. I hear that Henry's still in demand and has barely missed a beat."

"Anything else?" he asked shortly.

"Huh? Oh, no. I was just checking in," she said.

"Okay, have fun tonight. Be safe," he said.

"You too. Love you," she said quietly.

"Love you too. Bye," he said, hanging up the call.

He took off his headset and tossed it on the dresser. Glancing over at the mirror, he frowned, then grabbed a blue dress shirt and put it on.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 1, 2017**

Mary let out a tired sigh as she came into her apartment, putting her purse on the side table. She leaned against the wall and removed her boots, her feet immediately grateful to be liberated from their leather confinement. Coming into the living room, she went over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of water. She took a long drink and went over to look out the window as night covered the city.

Today had been another 14-hour day in a series of them, only cut short because Anna and the crew were going out for their annual April Fool's Night. Mary was thankful for the hard schedule, actually. It allowed her to block out the outside world and just live on set, a place that had always been a sanctuary, even back when she was a young girl first starting out in local theatre. There were always politics behind the scenes, she knew that. But rehearsing, filming, being on set with her cast, all of that was safe. There were no scandals, no showmances, no gossip and rumours. On set it didn't matter how popular she was, or what the fashion blogs thought of her, or who she was supposedly sleeping with. It was all about the art, about acting, and she still loved it.

She finished her water and tossed the bottle in the recycling bin before going through the bedroom and over to her walk-in closet to change. A smirk curled her lips as she took off her clothes, standing before the mirror in her blue bra and panties. They were a present from Matthew, and she chose them specifically to carry a bit of an intimate reminder of him as she went about her day. It was nearly three weeks since she'd last seen him, would be another three weeks or more until he wrapped on _The Irishman_ and would finally come back to Toronto. She didn't even try to hide it anymore. She missed him desperately.

Changing into a sweatshirt and leggings, she went into the bathroom to wash her face. Even if Matthew was here, she would barely have any time to see him. She came home exhausted and usually went straight to bed. He scolded her not to rely on craft services for all of her meals, but sleep was far more important than proper nutrition these days, and besides, catering made decent food, all things considered. Just having his presence around would have helped, though, especially now with her career in jeopardy and so many worries clouding her thoughts. June loomed on the horizon like a menacing spectre. She had nothing lined up for after _Paladin_ ended, and it terrified her. With _Shattered_ still showing remarkable staying power at the box office, this ought to be a golden time for her, when all the studios should be clamouring for her attention, the launching point for her career. Instead, she was drowning, first in Henry's scandal, and now her father's, and she didn't know how it would all play out.

Coming out of the bathroom, she sat down on her bed, leaning back against the headboard and picking up her tablet. Matthew was just as confused and anxious as she was, but at least if he was here she could take comfort in that. She could talk to him, rant to him, snuggle against him and fall asleep in his arms. It wouldn't solve anything, but it would help. Anna was supportive and the work was a nice distraction, but being with Matthew was different, was so much better.

Warmth pooled in her chest as she scrolled through her emails and messages. Of course she missed making love to him. Even their naughty video chats and her own fantasies didn't come close to the ecstasy of the real thing. Lately, they were both so busy that they couldn't even muster the energy to do that, sometimes unable to talk at all and just trading text messages over the course of a day and night. It would have shocked her how much she was affected by going without him if she didn't know he was suffering even more. They were like drug addicts in severe withdrawal after quitting cold turkey. She already decided that they would spend the early days of his return at his place. They were going to fuck like animals, and his furniture was more easily replaced.

She smiled wickedly at the thought of what he would do to her when a new email came in. Her good mood vanished as she recognized the sender and opened the brief message.

 _'Dearest Mary, I hear you might be available this summer? Let's set something up. Would love to work with you again. All my love, Henry.'_

"Opportunistic bastard," she snapped, frowning at the screen.

Since his drugs scandal, Henry had kept a low profile, being seen out in Los Angeles and Las Vegas but generally keeping to himself. After being sacked from _Paladin_ , one of his upcoming films had scaled back its marketing, but there was no indication he was being completely ostracized from the industry. She had her own problems to worry about now, and she didn't regret ending the false romance with him, but imagining his smug look when he read about Dad's troubles infuriated her.

Her face brightened when her Skype app popped up on the tablet screen showing an incoming video call. Answering immediately, she grinned as her boyfriend's smiling face appeared in all of its high definition glory.

"I was just thinking about you," she said sultrily, arching her eyebrow at him.

"Mmm, do tell," Matthew replied.

"Not yet. I'll save it for later. How was your day?" she asked.

"Long, as usual," he said, laughing tiredly. "I'm absolutely knackered. I don't know how Bob and Al and the rest of them do it. I'm worn out every day and I've only got a quarter of the scenes they do."

"Veteran experience," she said. "They just know how to pace themselves, and they probably feel far more comfortable with the entire production process. They're used to large scale films, and what's involved."

"Something like that," he agreed. "I keep hoping that I'm learning from them, even a little. Everyone lets me ask as many questions as I want, but I have no idea if it's made me a better actor or not. I'm just trying to get to the end."

"Well, do take some time to enjoy it, darling," she said. "I find myself thinking back on each day during the ride home, just trying to remember all the funny moments, or times that I know I nailed a particular scene. I never thought I would feel this way about the end of the show, but as the finale gets closer, I'm trying to savour all that I can."

He nodded in understanding, then looked at her earnestly. "You're going to get through this. I know you will. You're strong. You're one of the strongest people I know."

She smiled and nodded. "Thank you. You're ever so good to me, but I don't feel very strong. I feel like I'm flying in the wind and have no idea where I'll land."

He smiled sadly. "Today was a good day, though?"

She nodded. "It was. I got into a swordfight with Tony."

He laughed. "Hope you weren't too hard on him."

"I was fair," she said, smirking knowingly. "I can't make it too easy for him, you know."

He laughed and shook his head. "I've got something for you."

Her eyes lit up. "This is the time where I'm supposed to say 'oh Matthew, you shouldn't have' but honestly I could use all the pick-me-ups I can get."

"Well, I hope this helps buck you up a bit, then," he said, looking away from the camera to another part of his computer screen and typing away.

She blinked as a file popped up in her Google Drive account.

"What's this?" she asked, touching her finger to the screen.

"Just open it," he said, smiling confidently.

She touched the file with her finger and saw that it was a video. Enlarging the playback window, she kept Matthew's smiling face in one corner of the screen.

"Is this…?" she asked, looking intently at the video. "Oh my God!"

The opening shot was her and Matthew seated on chairs, looking off to the left. An interviewer asked them questions and they both smiled and laughed, sharing a playful glance before answering.

"Tom found the raw footage of the T Magazine interview," he explained smugly. "Thought you'd get a bit of a laugh out of it."

"God, I was so done by then. It was the end of the day and I could barely think straight," she said, watching as she and Matthew took turns answering questions about _Shattered_. Squeezing so many interviews into such a brief time in Los Angeles, they faced a seemingly endless queue of entertainment reporters, answering the same questions hundreds of times. By the time the reporter from T Magazine, the entertainment magazine of the _New York Times_ , caught up with them, they were being rather silly.

"See how she asks me if I can relate to Christina's emotional state?" she said, smiling and shaking her head. "She's basically asking if I've ever been cheated on."

He nodded in amusement. "Or if you've ever cheated. She was digging for clues on what happened between you and Henry."

"Maybe she thinks that I cheated on him with you," she teased. "She did give us rather suspicious looks every so often."

"Probably because we weren't taking the interview very seriously," he said, chuckling. They had to ask the reporter to repeat the questions countless times since they were barely paying attention, or laughing rather uncontrollably.

"Goodness, we had no idea what was coming," she commented. "I thought that distancing myself from Henry would limit any damage."

"And it did," he replied.

"Yes, no one is saying anything about that video now," she said bitterly.

Her eyes went back to the video and she watched herself smile and flirt with Matthew, her hand touching his shoulder briefly, her eyes bright and mischievous. How different things seemed back then.

"Thank you for finding this, darling," she said, smiling at Matthew. "It's really great."

 **2 Cats Cocktail Lounge, King West, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 1, 2017**

"Come on, Anna! Let's go dance!"

Anna gave Gwen a polite smile and shook her head. "You go. I'm waiting for the right song."

Gwen looked at her suspiciously, then shrugged her shoulders and headed over to the dance floor with some of the other crew members. Anna remained behind, leaning against the wall, pretending to check something on her phone.

The night had been fun so far, for the most part. Dinner was the usual comedy, the jokes coming thick and fast. They were a good bunch, having worked together for almost five years now, most of them. As she took in the scene at the restaurant, she felt a big nostalgic. She was going to miss the lot of them.

After dinner, they headed here for drinks and dancing. The vibe was far more chill and relaxed compared to the nightclubs in the city, the customers closer to their age. The music was exclusively 80's and 90's, exactly what she loved, and her mood had improved a little, even with everyone around her drinking alcohol and she relegated to sparkling water.

There was a group of friends dancing nearby who got her attention. They were mostly Asian women, a bit younger, obviously having a blast, dancing and singing along to familiar tunes. Her mind wandered to Alex, wondering where he was, what he was up to. She knew that the investors in from Hong Kong were mostly men, but her imagination got away from her and she saw him surrounded by women like these, laughing and flirting, giving him all the attention he deserved, all the attention that she hadn't this past week.

They were an interesting contrast, she and her husband. While Alex was the more romantic of the two of them, he also had a direct and pragmatic side that she appreciated. He was very decisive when he wanted to be. He loved saying 'Let's fix this'.

 _'Let's fix this, love, use Google Maps to find out where we are.'_

 _'Let's fix this, love, there's three restaurants on this block. You pick one.'_

 _'Let's fix this. I'll clean the pool. You sweep the deck.'_

She sighed sadly. If only he could fix her as easily.

"Another water?"

She looked up at Green's smiling face, pointing to her empty glass expectantly.

"Get me a beer," she called, nodding her head.

He smiled at her in understanding and headed off to the bar.

* * *

She contemplated leaving a few times, but wasn't sure where she would go. Mary was likely asleep by now, though that wasn't a problem. She could get to the guest room without disturbing her easily enough. She actually didn't have many clean clothes left, but the thought of going home filled her with dread. She missed Alex, missed his touch, his strong arms around her, but the thought of making love to him was terrifying. She had never felt like this before, usually having sex with him helped whenever she was stressed or worried, but now it just made her anxious. What if she was doing something wrong and that's why they weren't pregnant yet? What if she wasn't lifting her legs enough, or angling her hips right? She knew abstaining wasn't any kind of solution but she was out of ideas.

So she stayed for another song, and another, trying as best she could to smile and laugh along with the crew, try to at least make it seem as though she was enjoying herself.

"Hello, gorgeous! I thought that was you!"

She blinked and looked up in time to see a woman with a black pixie cut come over and hug Green tightly. She was wearing a white sleeveless top showing plenty of cleavage and tight black pants. Green looked stunned to see her, but returned her hug.

"Rachel, hi," he said, smiling down at her, the difference in their height rather stark when Anna saw them from the side. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm just out with some friends," Rachel replied. She turned her head and saw Anna standing there looking at them. "You?" she asked him.

"Here with people from work," he said. He turned to Anna, Rachel keeping her arm around his waist and leaning against him. "Rachel, this is Anna. We work together. Anna, Rachel."

She nodded and shook her hand. Rachel smiled and greeted her warmly.

"I love this song! Let's dance!" Rachel exclaimed, grabbing Green's hands and hopping up and down.

"You all right?" he asked, looking at Anna.

She hesitated, then smiled and raised her beer to him. "Yeah. Go ahead."

They left her and went to the dance floor.

* * *

"So you're with Alex?"

Anna blinked and looked up from the sink, seeing Rachel standing next to her and touching up her lipstick.

"Hmm? Oh! No, no, I'm not…I'm not with him. I'm with a bunch of people. That is, we're all here together, everyone from work. It's a work thing," Anna said, frowning at how incoherent she sounded.

"Oh, right. Yeah, he's tried to tell me about his work before but I never pay attention. You're all in the film industry, right?" Rachel asked lightly.

"Television, actually, yeah," Anna confirmed. "You?"

"I'm a cop," Rachel said lightly, smacking her lips as she looked in the mirror.

Anna blinked. "Wow. That's great."

Rachel smiled and nodded. "Thanks. Yeah, it's cool. Every day you could die. That's fun, right?"

Anna looked at her curiously. "Yeah, I guess. So, you and Alex? Have you known each other long?"

"Huh? Oh, no! Haha, no, not like that. Alex isn't the relationship type," Rachel said, laughing at the question.

Anna nodded slowly.

Rachel leaned closer. "Alex is a good fuck, a really good fuck, actually. He's huge. But that's all I would ever want from him. He's not boyfriend material, you know? You can just tell. He's not sensitive, or generous, or even that caring. He knows what he wants and he goes and gets it. That's kind of refreshing, you know? In my job, I'm constantly fighting for control, always having to prove myself to all the pricks around me, always having to keep my guard up in case someone's trying to stab me in the back, literally. It gets tiring, you know? When I finish my shift, I sometimes just want to forget everything, forget the job, forget who I am, forget what shit might hit the fan tomorrow. I just want a fun night and some really great sex, and that's Alex."

Anna blinked in surprise. She had quickly figured out that Rachel had very little filter, but the flood of information was still shocking.

"Ah, right," Anna managed.

"You're married," Rachel noted, glancing down at Anna's rings.

Anna looked down at her rings as if she was surprised she had them on.

"Is your husband here?" Rachel asked.

Anna looked back up at her. "Oh, no. He's out with some people from work too."

Rachel nodded and looked back at her reflection in the mirror. "Is Alex seeing anybody who's here tonight? What about that redhead?"

"Gwen? Oh, no! No, definitely not," Anna said, the very idea sounding disgusting to her ears for some reason.

"Good," Rachel said smugly. "So he's available tonight. That's perfect because I am fucking horny."

Anna had no idea what to say to that. "Good thing you ran into him, then."

"Right?" Rachel exclaimed cheerfully. "It makes things so much easier. With most guys, there's all these expectations to live up to, you have to be fucking perfect. If you come on to them, you're a slut. If you make them work for it, you're a bitch. There's none of that bullshit with him. Plus, I like it rough, and he's amazing at that, dangerous, but in a good way."

Anna just nodded.

"All right, let's party!" Rachel declared, turning and leaving the bathroom.

Anna shook her head in bewilderment and followed.

* * *

"So I had a nice chat with Rachel in the loo."

Green's eyes widened and he looked at her in alarm. "Oh shit. I hope she didn't scare you too much."

Anna smiled and shook her head. "Well, she's pretty blunt, but no, no she didn't scare me. She wasn't afraid to talk all about your relationship, though, or arrangement, or whatever you want to call it."

He laughed at that and shrugged his shoulders. "I wouldn't call it anything nearly as structured as that. We've seen each other a few times. It works for us, or maybe it's more accurate to say it works for her. I don't know. It doesn't do much for me, but I figure that I'm only here until June anyway, so nothing wrong with having a bit of fun here and there."

"Yeah, she was pretty clear on that part of it," she noted.

"Well, I suppose it's too late for me to deny anything or pretend to be embarrassed, isn't it?" he joked.

"Oh, I'm not judging you. It was just an interesting conversation, is all," she said, her face warming at the thought of all the explicit details that Rachel had regaled her with.

"Judge all you like. It doesn't matter to me. Like I told you, Anna. Not all of us heathens are lucky enough to have what you've got," he said. "Or even what Rachel's got."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

He smiled and leaned in closer so she could hear him. "Rachel's married. Her husband's a cop, too. They work different shifts so that's why she goes out with her friends most of the time."

She stared at him. "So you're…"

"Her distraction? Yeah," he said, chuckling. "Her husband cheats too. They have an open marriage. It's a necessity, I imagine, just cause of all the stress they deal with at work and being on different schedules. Plus, supposedly he's shit in bed, so…"

"Crikey," she said. "And that doesn't bother you?

"That he's shit in bed? No, why would it?" he joked.

She rolled her eyes.

"Am I bothered that she's using me? Not really," he said easily. "I like to think I'm helping her, helping her escape from all her troubles for a little while. It's almost like I'm fulfilling a civic duty."

She laughed and scoffed at his explanation.

"Another beer?" he asked.

She looked up at him, her mind swirling with all that Rachel had said about him. She put her empty bottle on the high-top table next to them.

"Let's go and dance," she said, nodding her head towards the dance floor and heading off.

He grinned and stared at her ass for a second before stalking after her.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, April 2, 2017**

Alex groaned as he removed his shirt and tossed it in the hamper. He looked over at his phone to see if his wife had texted him and saw nothing waiting for him. It was only 1 a.m., he reasoned. Usually, the _Paladin_ crew liked to stay out late on these special occasions. They hadn't talked about it, but he expected she would be staying at Mary's tonight anyway.

He put his phone down on the nightstand and went into the bathroom, taking off his underwear and heading to the shower. As the hot water cascaded down on to him, he leaned against the wall and looked down, a frown on his face.

"Be patient. Just be patient," he mumbled.

 **2 Cats Cocktail Lounge, King West, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 2, 2017**

Green smirked as he danced, his eyes wandering down the length of Anna's blonde hair, over her lithe figure and her tight ass, her trim legs bare and pale. With great effort, he had kept his hands to himself, just dancing next to her, letting her get swept up in the mood and the music. She'd had only a couple beers, so she was pretty much sober, but he could tell that everything about the evening was affecting her. He smiled at how lucky he was that Rachel just happened to be here tonight. Her presence, and whatever she had told Anna, was helping him out immensely. Bitches loved to talk, and tonight, Anna had heard all about him, and he hadn't had to say a word. She was looking at him differently, thinking about him differently, he could tell. The situation wasn't ideal. He had a few pills and powders in his pocket that he could use, but there wasn't enough time to get her back to his place and send her on home afterwards without arousing suspicion. He wasn't bothered, though. He wanted her to remember every detail about tonight, all that she had seen and heard. She wouldn't be able to forget about it. She would be curious. The repressed ones always were.

She turned around to face him, a smile on her face as she danced. He raised his arms and bobbed his head, keeping a safe distance between them, but still dancing close enough for everyone around them to see they were dancing together. The last thing he needed was for some drunk to make a move on her, though maybe she would go for the chivalrous thing if he came to her aid. He made a note to think about setting something like that up for the next time they went out. He looked down at her and smiled as the song changed.

 _'Oooh…baby, I'm hot just like an oven. I need some loving…'_

He watched her face light up as she recognized Marvin Gaye's _Sexual Healing_. He grinned at her, making a show of singing along to the lyrics. It helped that Tommy and the others around them joined in too, making it all seem safe and playful. His thoughts were anything but.

As the song played, he kept his eyes on hers, inching forward to close the space between them a little, but not too much. As she swayed her hips back and forth, he reached out and placed his hand on her waist, not daring to try anything more.

He kept his hand there for the rest of the song. She didn't stop him.

* * *

"Oh no, I'm not touching that!" Green said, laughing and shaking his head.

"Come on! Pull my finger! April Fool's is over now. Just pull it!"

Anna laughed and watched as Green refused to play along with Tommy's joke. Frustrated, he just shook his head and turned to the other lads to find another victim.

She took another sip of her beer, her third of the night, or was it her fourth? She didn't know. Didn't care. A few beers wouldn't do any harm. She had all of tomorrow off. Besides, it wasn't as if she and Alex would be trying again before next week.

The thought of her husband was a bit of a jolt, but she pushed those feelings aside. The night had turned out to be quite fun, and she was glad she had stayed. She had danced far longer than she expected she would, and when they all went to the bar for more drinks, she had traded stories and laughs with everyone, revelling in being out together. Though she wasn't consciously thinking about it, she was enjoying just being out having fun with friends. She wasn't a wife, wasn't Mary Crawley's personal assistant, wasn't a woman who couldn't get pregnant. She was just Anna, out for a good time.

Her eyes wandered over to Green, and she pursed her lips, blinking as Rachel's words from earlier in the evening came back to her.

 _'Alex is a good fuck, a really good fuck, actually. He's huge.'_

 _'He knows what he wants and he goes and gets it.'_

 _'I sometimes just want to forget everything, forget the job, forget who I am, forget what shit might hit the fan tomorrow. I just want a fun night and some really great sex, and that's Alex.'_

It was strange how tiny Rachel seemed when standing next to Alex. She had confided to Anna that she liked it rough, and apparently Alex liked to take control. Someone that tall could do plenty with a woman shorter than him. Rachel must be a tough cop. She had to be. She was only Anna's height and had a similar build.

Anna blinked and shook her head, chasing the random thoughts away as she kept looking at Green.

"Ready to go?"

She looked up at the sound of Rachel's voice. The woman came over and hugged Green, looking up at him expectantly. He turned his head and made eye contact with Anna for a second, smiling knowingly before turning back to Rachel and putting his hands on her hips.

"Yeah, just let me say goodbye to everyone," Anna heard him say.

She watched as Rachel stepped away. Green went around the circle shaking hands with everyone. Anna watched, a strange flutter in her stomach as she realized he was leaving with Rachel.

"Nice to meet you," Rachel said, drawing her attention. Her face was lit up with anticipation. Anna looked at her curiously. She was a married woman, and yet here she was, eagerly waiting to leave the bar so she could have illicit sex with a man who wasn't her husband, with Green.

"You too," Anna replied politely. "Have fun."

"Oh I will," Rachel said, nodding confidently.

Anna watched Rachel step aside and suddenly Green was before her. She looked up at his smiling face, her lips parting as he leaned down to her.

"You're okay to get home, right? You can split a cab with us, if you want," he asked.

The idea of being in close quarters with Green and Rachel made her stomach lurch.

"I'm good, yeah," she said, nodding and smiling up at him. "Go on."

"Okay. I'll talk to you tomorrow?" he asked.

She nodded. "Sure."

"Good night, then," he said, pulling her into a hug and kissing her cheek.

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. "Good night."

The next instant, he was gone, his arm around Rachel's shoulders, her hand on his ass, heading for the door.

"How much longer do you want to stay?" Gwen asked, coming to her side.

Anna kept staring at the door. "Not much longer. I don't want to get back to Mary's too late."

* * *

 **Song Credits (in order of appearance):**

 **You Want to Make a Memory -** Bon Jovi, (2007), Island, Mercury

 **Sexual Healing -** Marvin Gaye, (1982), Columbia


	7. Chapter 7

**Previously:**

 **2 Cats Cocktail Lounge, King West, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 2, 2017**

"Nice to meet you," Rachel said, drawing her attention. Her face was lit up with anticipation. Anna looked at her curiously. She was a married woman, and yet here she was, eagerly waiting to leave the bar so she could have illicit sex with a man who wasn't her husband, with Green.

"You too," Anna replied politely. "Have fun."

"Oh I will," Rachel said, nodding confidently.

Anna watched Rachel step aside and suddenly Green was before her. She looked up at his smiling face, her lips parting as he leaned down to her.

"You're okay to get home, right? You can split a cab with us, if you want," he asked.

The idea of being in close quarters with Green and Rachel made her stomach lurch.

"I'm good, yeah," she said, nodding and smiling up at him. "Go on."

"Okay. I'll talk to you tomorrow?" he asked.

She nodded. "Sure."

"Good night, then," he said, pulling her into a hug and kissing her cheek.

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. "Good night."

The next instant, he was gone, his arm around Rachel's shoulders, her hand on his ass, heading for the door.

"How much longer do you want to stay?" Gwen asked, coming to her side.

Anna kept staring at the door. "Not much longer. I don't want to get back to Mary's too late."

 **Chapter 7:**

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 2, 2017**

Anna blinked several times, Mary's guest bedroom coming into focus. She lifted her head, slowly realizing where she was. She rubbed her eyes, sat up and stretched her arms, moving her head around in circles before getting out of bed, dressed in her camisole and panties. Thank God she hadn't drank more than a few beers last night. A hangover would be just perfect given how terrible she was feeling already. Her phone was on the nightstand and she picked it up, seeing a text message from her husband waiting for her. Frowning, she opened it.

 _'Hope you had fun last night. Lunch today?'_

She sighed and shook her head. He was so sweet. Not a word about how she hadn't texted him last night when she got back from the bar. No messages or calls checking up on her. No demands that she come home finally. He trusted her, trusted that she was out with co-workers and everything was fine, trusted that she had a legitimate reason not to go home yet. His patience only made her feel worse.

Tossing her phone on the bed, she wandered over to the door, running her hand through her hair. Today was her day off. She really should see him, spend time with him, just the two of them. The thought of having sex with him scared her, but she wasn't in her fertile window yet, so that was a relief. They could make love without any expectation of getting pregnant. She would be off the hook for a few more days yet, and she had plenty to make up for.

Opening the door, she was about to turn towards the bathroom when she heard noises coming from down the hall. It was still quite early, and Mary wouldn't have woken up yet, especially not on a Sunday where she wasn't due on set. Perplexed, she wandered down the hall, the garbled sounds becoming louder.

Turning the corner, she entered her bedroom, at her house, saw her furniture, the art she'd picked out on the walls, her curtains drawn across the large windows. The plush duvet was pulled back and hanging down on to the floor, the pillows were scattered across the headboard. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as she stared at the two people grunting and moaning atop her bedsheets.

Green was fucking Rachel on her bed.

They were both sweaty, a lewd smacking noise filling the air as he thrust into her from behind. His one hand was fisted in her hair, yanking her back, his other clutching her hip, his fingers digging into her pale skin. He was overpowering her, her vain attempts to push back against him and match his strokes eventually abandoned as she arched her back and surrendered.

Anna's eyes moved from the small woman bent over in submission and looked at Green, the muscles of his legs, back and arms flexing with every plunge. She eventually looked at his face and was shocked to find his head turned towards her, his dark eyes finding hers, mouth open in an evil smile.

"Take it, Anna," he growled. "Take it like the stupid little whore you are!"

She gasped, looking at his leering face in horror. Tearing her eyes away from him, she looked back down at Rachel. Her hair wasn't the black pixie cut, but rather long and blonde, wound around Green's fist. Confused, Anna stepped forward, coming closer to get a look at the face of the woman who was now crying out and calling Green's name in grateful pleasure.

It wasn't Rachel that he was fucking. It wasn't Rachel who was writhing, panting, and shaking in the throes of passion.

It was her.

* * *

"Anna?"

Anna opened her eyes and shot up, breathing raggedly, her pulse racing. She looked around her empty bed, Mary's guest bedroom coming into focus. She frowned in confusion, placing her hand on her chest, her mind a jumbled mess.

"Anna?" Mary called again, knocking on the bedroom door.

Anna looked up, her mind finally catching up to her surroundings. She swallowed and took deep breaths to calm herself before answering. "Come in!"

Mary opened the door and entered, carrying a tea tray. She smiled as she approached and set it down on the bed, then sat next to her bewildered assistant.

"Good afternoon," Mary said, smiling as she began pouring tea for each of them. "Were you planning on sleeping the entire day away?"

Anna frowned in shock. She turned and grabbed her phone, staring at the screen anxiously.

It was 12:27 p.m. She had slept in all morning.

There were three text messages and two missed calls from her husband. She opened them with a feeling of dread.

 _'Hope you had fun last night. Lunch today?'_

 _'Love, you awake?'_

 _'Mary says you're still asleep. Must have been some party! Have a great day and call me later. Love you.'_

She closed her eyes and shook her head in despair. Fuck.

"Alex called earlier looking for you. I thought I'd just let you sleep. I finished talking to Matthew last night at 1, so I imagine you got in pretty late," Mary said, handing her a cup of tea.

"Yeah, it was around 3, I think. Thanks," Anna said, putting her phone down and taking the tea. She took a long sip. Chamomile with milk and honey - just the way she liked it. As spoiled as people thought Mary was, with her servants and toff upbringing, she still could made a great cup of tea. The warmth filled her chest and relaxed her tense muscles, though just a small bit.

"Anna, why did you come back here last night?" Mary asked, sipping her tea, her eyes watching her closely. "I thought you'd have gone home."

"Alex was out with clients last night. I didn't know when he would be back. It seemed easier just to come here. Yours was closer to the bar," Anna explained, the excuse sounding lame to her ears.

Mary smiled patiently. "Anna, I know that these past few days have been disastrous, with the studios cancelling my meetings and the 16-hour days on set, and you've been wonderful, as always, really. But I don't want you to devote your every waking hour to me. You have a husband that you haven't seen for weeks. You shouldn't be here. You should be with him."

Anna swallowed and nodded, looking down at her tea.

"Anna? What's wrong?" Mary asked carefully.

"Nothing," Anna replied, shaking her head. "It's just been a long week, is all."

"What's wrong?" Mary asked again, looking at her with concern. "I may be a self-absorbed actress, but I'm not stupid. You hardly get any time with Alex as it is. Volunteering to be away from him for a week was a bit strange, but explainable, but not going home to him when I don't need you at all today is entirely not like you."

Anna closed her eyes and cringed, the tears gathering quickly.

"Talk to me, please," Mary asked earnestly. "You're my best friend. I love you and I want to help."

"You can't! No one can!" Anna said, sobbing as she looked at Mary despondently. "It's me! I'm a failure, and I can't face him! I just can't!"

"Oh, Anna," Mary said sadly, setting the teacups aside and pulling her into a hug. "You're not a failure!"

Anna cried on her shoulder, sobbing into what surely was an expensive blouse. Mary rubbed her back, holding her tight until she was able to compose herself a little and sit back up.

"I just can't get pregnant! I don't know why! I've tried everything! I take vitamins, supplements, watch my diet, I've cut back on caffeine, alcohol, increased my folic acid intake, it's just not working!" Anna complained, throwing her hands up. "It's been nine months since we started trying and we have nothing to show for it. Usually, couples conceive within the first three months, but not me!"

"You can't compare yourself to everyone else," Mary said, rubbing her back. "What about Alex? Maybe there's something wrong with him?"

"No, there isn't," Anna said, sniffling as she shook her head. "I never thought there was, but he went to see a specialist to get tested and everything came back fine. He's actually supremely virile. His count is…"

"I get the point," Mary interjected gently. "You didn't mention this before."

"He didn't tell me about it," she said, rolling her eyes. "I found the report on his Google Drive when I was looking for the menu for our Chinese New Year party. He probably didn't want to tell me because he was afraid it would make me feel guilty, which was not a completely unreasonable fear."

"What does Dr. Ryder say?" Mary asked.

"She doesn't think I should see a specialist until we've been trying for a full year. My blood tests, ultrasounds, hormone tests, they've all been good. Nothing seems to point to there being a problem. She keeps saying to not think about it too much and keep to my schedule. She has plenty of patients who have taken longer than us, but that doesn't exactly make me feel better, really," Anna scoffed.

"That doesn't mean it isn't sound advice. Look, Alex loves you. He would hate to see you beating yourself up like this, I know he would. Whether you get pregnant or not won't change your marriage, I'm sure of it," Mary said.

"He's said as much, many times," Anna acknowledged. "That just makes me feel worse, really. He's too good about it all. If he would get angry and yell at me over it, that wouldn't get us any closer to getting pregnant, but it would at least make me feel better. I know that sounds mad, but it's to the point that every time I see him, every time I talk to him, all I think about is how I'm letting him down."

"It is mad, but understandable. You've had a lot of shit boyfriends, so you're used to being treated terribly. The fact that he's not a complete ass makes you think something horrible is coming. Your husband loves you. Let him. That's all there is to it. Forget about what might happen in the future and whether you're worthy of him and all that other nonsense," Mary advised.

Anna smiled weakly. "Lady Mary giving out love advice. Now that's a new one."

Mary laughed and shook her head. "I think it's along the lines of 'do as I say, not as I do', or not as I did, anyway. Get yourself cleaned up, get home to your husband and have some amazing sex. God knows I won't be for weeks still, so you can at least get some for the both of us."

Anna laughed and squeezed Mary's hand gratefully. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Mary said cheerfully, getting out of bed and heading for the door. "If we're counting the number of times we've whinged to each other, I'm probably still well ahead."

Anna smiled and nodded knowingly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Mary answered, turning around. "What is it?"

Anna swallowed and looked down at her lap. "I ran into a…friend…of mine at the bar last night – Rachel – she's seeing this guy who's absolutely horrid. Doesn't really care about her at all, just wants one thing. The strange part is that she's fine with it. She says it helps clear her mind, helps her forget herself for a night and just let go. It seems as though she's almost addicted, like she needs to be with him every so often to deal with her real life. Do you understand that at all?"

"Do I?" Mary said, laughing and nodding her head. "Was he there last night? Is this guy good looking at least?"

Anna blinked. "Erm, well he's all right, I suppose. Not really my type, but she was all over him."

Mary smiled and nodded knowingly. "You remember Jamal, don't you? He was the first guy I went out with after Matthew, though I wouldn't call it dating. He was everything I usually never go for – a big, dumb, hulk of a man with no ambition and no interests besides sports, recreational drugs, and horrible music. He once told me the only reason he wanted me was because I was white and he liked my accent."

Anna blinked as she remembered the early days when they first moved to Toronto after Mary broke up with Matthew. "Right! Yeah, you met him at that club."

"Through Catherine, naturally," Mary said, smirking in recollection. "Anyway, I went out with him because he was exactly who I wasn't supposed to be with. He didn't care who I was, or what I did. He was the complete opposite of…well, of Matthew."

Anna nodded in understanding.

"It was exciting the first few times, the feeling that I was being daring, risky, doing something dangerous and something that my parents would definitely not approve of. Those early days were so stressful, you remember? Not knowing if the show would be picked up, getting used to a new country, working with Henry, all of it was so overwhelming at times. Being with Jamal was a wonderful release. I could shut my brain off and not think about anything, not care about anything, just enjoy being…bad. I gather that's what your friend Rachel likes about her guy as well. Sometimes dealing with life, living up to your own expectations, is too stifling, too maddening, and you'll do anything to get away from it, even if just for a night," Mary said.

"But you ended it with Jamal in short order, I recall," Anna said. "Why?"

"Besides common sense, you mean?" Mary joked. "Ultimately I always knew it would never last. It was just a phase, a thing that I felt I had to do, sort of making up for all the misbehaving I didn't do earlier in life. I suppose you could argue about whether I actually needed to be with a man like that to work out my frustrations. Maybe I could have just done yoga or more spin classes instead, but Jamal happened. Most women would have been far more sensible, but I can't say I regret it at all, really. That arrangement that I had with Matthew lasted much longer, but it was similar, and technically also ill-advised, but I don't regret that either."

"Especially since it's worked out quite well for you," Anna noted.

Mary smiled. "Yes, indeed it has. Well, don't ever tell Matthew this, but part of the problem with Jamal was he was actually worse than Matthew in bed. Much worse. There wasn't anything really wrong with him, but the thrill of being with someone so deplorable wore off very quickly. It didn't feel as exciting anymore, it just felt stupid, or probably more accurately, I always knew it was stupid, but the excitement made up for it. In the beginning, it was like a drug, a sort of sickness. Once I had it, even though I knew it was wrong, I couldn't stop myself. But eventually, when the excitement died, all I was left with was…something quite stupid."

Anna laughed. "I guess that makes sense, sort of."

"Well, you know that supposedly some of the more popular female sex fantasies are being with a stranger, being with someone completely incompatible with you, and being dominated or coerced. It's all ridiculous but I think we all do some rather foolish things in life for whatever reason, or lack thereof. Your friend will grow out of it eventually. If it starts affecting her real life, then maybe you should consider an intervention of some sort, but if she just wants some mindless sex every now and again without the complication of any emotional investment, that's rather harmless. No one needs to know, and no one gets hurt," Mary said.

"Yeah," Anna replied slowly. "I guess I'll just leave it and hope she doesn't do anything truly stupid."

Mary smiled and nodded before turning for the door. "All right, see you tomorrow."

Anna glanced at her phone again, biting her lower lip. Taking a deep breath, she left it where it was and got up to go shower, pushing the visions of her earlier dream to the back of her mind.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, April 2, 2017**

"Hey," Alex said, putting his headset in his ear. "What's up? You're not working today?"

"I am, but it's a night shoot. I just wanted to grab you before you got too busy with whatever it is you finance types do on Sundays," Matthew said.

"Besides saving the world and keeping all of you hopeless actors employed, you mean?" Alex shot back. "I'm just having a late lunch."

"Ah. So, Mary texted me this morning and mentioned that Anna stayed over at hers last night, and that she's been there for the past week," Matthew mentioned.

Alex rolled his eyes. "Yeah. With everything going on, she wanted to be close by to support her. You know, since her boyfriend isn't here."

"And we appreciate it, both of us," Matthew replied, undeterred. "Alex, is everything good with you two?"

Alex sighed. "Not really, but I'm hoping that it will be eventually."

"So she's still having problems," Matthew stated.

"Yeah," Alex said tiredly. "I don't know what else to do. I try to support her as much as I can, but she's shutting me out. I don't want to bring up the whole pregnancy thing because it'll just make her upset. Since I got back, we've been talking and texting all week, pretending everything's fine."

"But it's not," Matthew said.

"She's not working today. There's no filming. Why she thought she couldn't come home, I don't know. This morning I texted her to go out to lunch and she slept in, didn't get my messages. I had to talk to Mary just to make sure she was all right. I haven't been in the same room with her since London," Alex said.

"Did you tell her that you didn't want her to stay at Mary's?" Matthew asked.

"Obviously not. Come on," Alex snapped.

"Alex, you were away for two weeks and she left you for another week," Matthew said.

"I don't boss my wife around. Never have before and I won't start now. She'll come to me when she's ready," Alex said firmly.

"Telling her that you miss her and you want her with you isn't bossing her around," Matthew noted. "If Mary avoided me after we've been apart for the past few months, I'd go nuts."

"Yeah, well we're not you and Mary," Alex retorted. "Anna's under a lot of pressure right now, she's got a lot to think about. She's genuinely concerned for Mary's career. I don't want to pile on."

"All right. I'm just concerned," Matthew said.

"Well you're not the only one," Alex grumbled. "Anyway, how much longer do you have there?"

"Looking like until the end of the month," Matthew said. "They've added some extra pages for me, which is nice, but it means I'm here for a little longer than originally planned."

"Extra work is good though, especially in a movie like that. Has Joe found you anything else?" Alex asked.

"He's lined up some meetings for me while I'm here. I was looking for projects that will film in Toronto at first, but now that Mary may not be based there beyond June, maybe I won't be limited as much, so I'm considering a few different things," Matthew said.

"Right. What's she going to do after _Paladin_ wraps if she doesn't find anything? Go back to England?" Alex asked. The thought came to him for the first time. He hadn't spoken to Anna about it before, or whether she would follow Mary if she were to leave town. Anything seemed possible these days.

"I doubt it. Sybil has given up her moving plans for now because of the uncertainty with Brexit and Robert's scandal. I think Mary would want to stay here, whether it be Toronto, New York or L.A., who knows? If she loses her apartment, she could always just stay at mine until she knows where she'll be," Matthew suggested.

"Moving in together finally, eh?" Alex joked.

"Shut up. I'm talking about a hypothetical, and for convenience only," Matthew said.

"For a man who planned an entire future with this woman, you are being remarkably short-sighted and practical," Alex said.

"Mary's career is on shaky ground right now," Matthew said. "The last thing I want is for her to think I'm trying to take advantage and tie her down. We talk about the future of our careers all the time. Eventually we'll get to talking about the future of us, too. Her whole world is changing. Our relationship needs to be the one stable thing she can rely on."

"That is remarkably mature. Being in New York must be doing wonders for you," Alex said.

"Yeah, well just trying to be great like everyone else down here," Matthew said sarcastically.

Alex laughed and was about to reply when he heard the front door open. Looking to the doorway, his pulse jumped as his wife came into the living room, meeting his eyes and smiling nervously.

"I gotta go. Bye," Alex said quickly, hanging up on Matthew and getting up from the sofa.

 **Creative Artists Agency, Midtown Manhattan, New York, USA, April 2, 2017**

"All right, Rosamund, what have you got?"

Rosamund nodded and looked across the various video chat windows on the large boardroom television. It was always a bit of a risk to call a meeting on a Sunday, but she felt she had to devote every possible moment to saving Mary's career. The past week had been hell, every meeting she had set up before Robert's scandal broke had been canceled, and the prevailing feedback she was getting from the studios was that Mary wasn't employable. It was all the more frustrating with _Shattered_ still going strong at the box office and garnering an outstanding 93% on the _Rotten Tomatoes_ film review aggregator website. Unfortunately, the industry was always planning months in advance, and with June fast approaching, she was running out of time to get Mary anything to keep her going after _Paladin_ wrapped.

"I wanted to canvass all the available options for Mary," Rosamund stated, sitting up tall and straight, her hands folded in front of her on the polished wood conference table. "I know everyone has heard the misguided opinions about her that have circulated recently, but her work speaks for itself. I believe if we can find an appropriate project for her, that will turn the tide. We just need to find it."

"All the major studios won't use her," one of the other agents stated. "Television is still an option since she's a proven commodity there, but no one is going to give her a lead in a series now, so that leaves guest spots."

"No," Rosamund rejected the idea. "I can pitch her going down in scale for a movie that has some pedigree, but she can't be anything less than a lead on television."

"So that eliminates television," another agent declared.

"If we're looking at midsize studios, you're talking about a smaller part, smaller than what she did in _Shattered_ ," a third agent chimed in. "The only way she's getting a lead role is either on an alternative platform, or with an indie project that doesn't have its distribution in place yet."

Rosamund frowned. She wasn't entirely up to date on digital media productions, but she didn't want Mary to do any direct-to-video projects or exclusively online content. That was helpful when she needed something to fill a hiatus to keep her trending, but now she needed an actual vehicle.

"Anything else?" she asked.

"Why not consider overseas? She started in England, she could go back and do theatre for a few months, or take on a film in France or Spain, even try Asia. The exposure isn't necessarily worse, it's just different. She gets noticed by a billion Chinese and Hollywood won't be ignoring her for too much longer."

"Yeah, she can pull a Kristen Stewart, not be known so much for blockbusters but for doing really good work on a smaller scale. She bounced back great from her scandal. They aren't nearly as judgmental over there. They care more about the story than who's in the movie."

Rosamund looked over at the glass wall of the boardroom, contemplating the suggestion. She didn't want Mary doing a Bollywood movie, but there was some merit in her leaving North America. Projects overseas had similar funding to Hollywood films, the ones that Mary would be up for, anyway, and international film festivals in Cannes and Venice were attended by all the major players, not just Europeans.

"All right, let's get her name out, spread the word that she would consider a foreign project and see who's interested," Rosamund stated.

"One thing first, though. International directors and producers have a different approach to doing things. They can be more demanding, especially of women. If we're putting her out there, it's implied that she's down for anything. Guaranteed it's not going to be as glamorous as what she's used to, and some of the conditions she usually insists on might not be acceptable. She'd be pushed, especially by some of these guys. They can be borderline sadists."

"Do it. We can worry about any issues once she's got a job," Rosamund ordered.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, April 2, 2017**

Anna breathed deeply, flipping her hair away from her face as she settled against her husband's chest. Resting her head on her hands, she looked up at his dumb smile.

"Stop looking at me like that," she said, grinning at him. "It wasn't that good."

"It wasn't, eh?" he joked, running his hand up and down her bare back.

"All right, it was amazing, but you shouldn't be acting like I did anything special," she clarified. "I should be the one thanking you."

"I'm quite sure it requires both of us to make it happen," he said, chuckling at her wry smile. "I'm just glad you're here."

"So am I," she said softly. "I love you, babes. I'm so sorry that I…"

"Don't say it," he interrupted her. "You don't have to apologize to me over and over. We talked about it and now we can move on. I just want you to come to me when you're stressed. I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid of you," she said. "I just feel…lost…I'm usually always on top of things, and when I'm not, I work my ass off to get to where I need to be, and lately it seems that no matter what I do, I feel like I'm falling behind. Talking about it just makes me feel worse, so I don't. It seems easier to just put my head down and get on with it."

"Classic British stoicism. Stiff upper lip, right?" he said.

"It's how we're raised. Women shouldn't whinge, Mum always said," she replied.

"Now that's ironic," he noted, making her laugh. "There was a moment last night when I was sitting in a diner with five Chinese guys with a combined net worth of over a billion dollars that I wondered what the hell I was doing," he recalled. "We still don't have a firm deal from them for the entire project. I could have gone to all of this trouble for nothing, and that's stressful, but it's out of my hands. If I don't close that deal, it won't be because I didn't do something, because I know I did everything. I want you to feel that way too. You run Mary's life and what's happening to her right now isn't your fault. You couldn't have done anything to stop it or even seen it coming. Yeah, it sucks not knowing what her next move is going to be, but that's Lady Rosamund's job to deal with, not yours. You're doing everything you can to support her. That has to be good enough, love. There has to be a point where you accept that you've done what you can and what happens after that is what it is."

"That sounds well and good, but when have you ever not closed a deal?" she asked, looking at him intently.

He scoffed and smiled at her. "I lose deals all the time. It just doesn't seem like it because the deals I close helps people forget about the ones I don't."

"Exactly. Your wins far exceed your losses. I feel as if this is a crucial moment in Mary's career and we can't leave any stone unturned," she said.

"That's cool. Just remember me every once in a while in between stones," he said. "We don't have to talk about things if you don't want to, love, but don't think that you can't come to me, or that I don't want you around, because I do. I want you all the time."

"I will. Promise," she said, leaning up and kissing him before snuggling against him.

"So how was last night anyway?" he asked lightly.

She blinked, her head turned to the side. "Oh, it was fine, the usual April Fool's Night shenanigans, you know. We went to that 2 Cats place, on King near Bathurst? It was all right. The music was really good, actually."

"They play that 80's and 90's crap that you love," he joked.

"Excuse you, it's hardly crap. It's better than all that R&B drivel you listen to," she retorted.

"I seem to recall that drivel helped charm you years ago," he said pointedly.

"I just wanted you for your body and your money," she joked. "I put up with the music as a necessary sacrifice."

"Oh you do, huh?" he said, grabbing her and tickling her sides.

"Ah! Shit! Stop! Stop it!" she shrieked, laughing as she wrestled with him. He finally showed her mercy, kissing her deeply and settling back down with her lying against him. She hummed in satisfaction.

"How's Alex Green doing? He came out last night, right? Is he getting along with everyone?" he asked.

She swallowed at the mention of Green, images of her dream that morning coming to her mind despite her not wanting to remember them. "Yeah, he was there. He's doing all right. We're a pretty easy bunch to get along with, so he's fit in pretty fast."

"That has to be tough, committing to a new job, coming over here for a few months, then packing up and having to find another show," he noted.

 _'I'm only here until June anyway, so nothing wrong with having a bit of fun here and there.'_

She shut her eyes, trying to will away Green's voice and face. "It's part of the business."

"Yeah, that's true," he said. "Here today, gone tomorrow. In and out and on to the next one."

She cringed, pressing herself against him. Did Green only have an arrangement with Rachel? What about those waitresses that she'd seen him flirt with and get phone numbers from? How many women was he hooking up with? How many women was he helping forget their problems with a night of hard fucking? She kept her eyes closed, trying to clear her head of the dark images invading her thoughts.

"Mmm," he groaned at her touch, shifting his legs beneath the duvet to tangle with hers.

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of his voice, drawing her back to the present. She reached down her husband's body, desperate for a distraction. He responded immediately. Turning her head, she breathed in his familiar, comforting scent and kissed his chest lightly.

"I love you, babes," she said against his skin, kissing him over and over. This was where she belonged. This was the man she vowed to love for the rest of her life. "I love you."

"Tell me what you want," he rasped.

She looked up at him, startled by his firm tone. Finding his dark eyes, her pulse jumped as she felt him swell in her hand.

"I want you," she whispered, her mind swirling with lewd images once more. "I want you to fuck me again."

He smiled devilishly and a shiver shot through her, lust and fear inflaming her arousal.

"How do you want it, love?" he demanded. "Tell me."

She slid up his body, kissing and licking his neck as she moved to his ear, her hand squeezing him intently, the feel of his firm body against hers arousing her even more.

"I want to take it from behind," she whispered.

She breathed heavily when he got up and moved her into position, putting her on her hands and knees and nudging her legs further apart. She closed her eyes as she felt his hands on her hips, her head falling forward when she felt him move in closer. Her blood surged with anticipation, her imagination picturing how she must look. Bent over, ready to receive a man, to be taken, driven to ecstasy by the power of his dominance. She threw her head back when he thrust inside, drowning in the feel of her husband and the images in her mind.

 **Pinewood Studios Toronto, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, April 6, 2017**

"It started out as a rather small project, sort of destined to be an independent film and nothing more, but then Sony got a hold of it and upped the budget considerably. The best part is that they kept Gareth as the director and he told me that they haven't changed his original vision. So it's going to be quite different from the normal sort of thriller/action film, but with plenty of backing behind it from the studio."

Mary nodded, closing her eyes and resting on the bed. She was on an hour break before the night shoot began and when she got back to her trailer, she managed to catch Matthew as he was leaving the set in New York. She asked him about his meeting yesterday on a project that he was considering for the summer.

"Who else is attached to it?" she asked.

"Felicity Jones and Rooney Mara are in talks to play the sister, and Sir Ben Kingsley is onboard as the antagonist, the leader of the cult," Matthew said. "It's quite a smart story, I think. The brother doesn't just show up guns blazing, or whatever. He has to be resourceful and intelligent, and the whole thing is set on this remote island, which gives another element to it. I was quite impressed, I must say."

"You'll need to decide soon if they're going to start in a few months' time," she noted, curling up on her side, her headset in her ear.

"They're pretty much ready to go. I would read for it next week and they'll come to a decision before I head back to Toronto," he said.

"Well, there's no harm in going out for it. You can then weigh the offer against any others you might receive," she said.

"Right. Erm…do you think it's something you might be interested in?" he asked.

Her eyes opened, her brow creasing at his suggestion. "Me?"

"Yes, you," he said, trying to sound casual. "They're in talks, but they haven't committed to anyone for the female lead. You could try for it."

She rolled her eyes. "Darling, that's a very lovely suggestion, but I think not. Sony already told Aunt Rosamund that they were passing on me for another film that I was looking at."

"Yes, but if I get the part, then I can nudge Gareth to consider you, since we've already worked together to great success," he noted. "We can sort of circumvent the studio if we just go straight to the director."

"And what if he tells you that he's been instructed not to work with me? Or, worse yet, what if he shares the same prehistoric attitude as the executives that I've heard from? No, I don't think it'll work out, sadly," she said. "Besides, don't be so eager to recommend me. It's great that you're taking meetings, Matthew, but that doesn't mean you have any actual pull. If you start making demands and are seen as being difficult, you'll be passed over for someone else who isn't nearly so picky. You have to be careful."

"I just wish there was something I could do," he grumbled.

"There isn't, but you mustn't let it trouble you," she said, trying to sound less annoyed.

"It does trouble me," he said firmly. "It troubles me very much."

"And I love you for caring, but focus on your own career, not on trying to save mine. Besides, how could I possibly play your sister? Going through an entire film watching you sweat and fight and only be allowed one hug at the end? Certainly not," she teased.

He laughed. "I was actually thinking of the benefit of filming on a tropical island together."

"Mmm, that does sound lovely," she agreed. "I'm considering going out for two French films, so a summer in Paris won't be so objectionable."

"Paris? Really? What are they?" he asked, surprised at the development.

"It's very early days, you understand, but they didn't reject me when Aunt Rosamund raised my name, so that's encouraging. One is a political drama, I would be playing the wife of a candidate who uncovers a corruption plot. The other is probably more of a challenge. It's called _The Muse_ , about a woman who models for a painter who becomes obsessed with her. The interesting thing about the second one is that it uses monologues quite heavily, introducing each part of the story through first-person retrospectives, then re-enacting it through traditional scenes, so I would be on-screen for most of the film," she explained.

"I'm not very familiar with French films, but they both sound quite interesting, and you'd be the lead actress in both," he noted.

"In theory, yes," she confirmed. "They're both rather dark, not really pictures where the characters live happily ever after, and the directors are notorious for being quite hard on their actors, but I'm sure that I can handle it."

"Of course you can," he said encouragingly. "I guess French studios judge you by your work, rather than what the gossip is about you. How progressive."

"I'm sure they can be just as superficial as any other studio, but it's a perfect storm for them, really. I'm a relatively known name, I'm affordable, and they know I don't have many options. These films wouldn't make much from the American market anyway, so it's an easier decision for them."

"Well, regardless, hopefully you'll be in France this summer," he said.

"And you'll be on a tropical island," she replied. "How convenient. Aren't we the lucky ones?"

* * *

"You're leaving?"

Anna looked up from her phone and smiled as Green came over to her.

"I'm off, yes," she confirmed. "Mary's just got some voiceovers tonight, so she doesn't need me to stay."

"Ah, that's too bad. Here I thought we'd be spending the night together," he said, smirking at her.

She smiled and raised her eyebrows at him playfully. "Ah yes, Tony's here shooting overnight, isn't he? Well, that's a real shame."

He laughed and shook his head at her. "Yes, I can see that your heart bleeds for me."

"Always," she teased. "Well, I hope you can make it through."

"I'm sure I'll be fine. It would have been much more fun with you here, but I never have any problems going all night," he said, smirking at her.

"Especially if you're being paid for it?" she said, laughing as he smiled and wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

"What can I say? I'm just that good," he said cheekily.

"If you say so. Have fun!" she said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before turning and walking towards the exit, a smile on her lips.

He watched her go, his eyes drifting down to her ass. Smiling, he shook his head and turned to go to Tony's trailer.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, April 6, 2017**

Alex dipped the BBQ lighter into the glass vase and lit the candle wick. Pulling back, he watched as the flame grew, the vanilla scent wafting up and mingling with the sandalwood and lavender from the other candles. He put the lighter down and stepped back, breathing in the pleasant smells and trying to relax.

"That smells good."

He turned and smiled as Anna came into the bedroom. She wore red lace lingerie beneath her open silk robe, a gift he bought for her when they were in London.

"You look gorgeous," he said softly.

"Back at you," she teased, coming into his arms and kissing him lightly. She ran her hands from his neck, down across his shoulders and over his bare chest. "You look very fucking hot."

"Love, I don't want you to worry about…" he began.

"Shh," she said, smiling as she pressed her finger to his lips. "I had a bit of an epiphany today. Would you like to hear it?"

He nodded.

"Good. Come here," she said, taking his hands and leading him over to the bed. Sitting him down, she stood before him, placing her hands on his shoulders.

"When I woke up this morning, my lovely app reminded me that today is the beginning of my fertile window," she said. "I felt nervous, and scared, knowing that we'd be trying tonight and terrified that it wouldn't work again, that this would be the beginning of six days of useless effort."

"Oh, Anna," he said sympathetically.

She smiled and shook her head to silence him. "But when I got to Mary's, she was in a rather ornery mood. I mean, worse than usual, and it reminded me that she's been without Matthew for nearly a month, and it'll be another three weeks until he's back."

He nodded.

"I got to thinking throughout the day of just how lucky I am," she continued. "I get to go home to my wonderful, loving, sexy husband every night, and for the next six days, I can have you as often as I want."

He blinked, then his mouth opened into a goofy grin as he nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, you can, and not just for six days."

She laughed. "No, for far more than just six days. All that time in the beginning when we were dating and we were an ocean apart, I used to miss you so much, miss your arms around me, your kisses, your hands on me, all the amazing things that you can do to me…"

He groaned as she leaned down and kissed his cheek, then the other.

"Instead of being scared, I should be grateful," she said softly, pressing light kisses all over his face. "Grateful for all the hot…rough…incredible…sex that I get to have with the man I love. Why should I worry? I'm really very, very lucky."

She found his lips and kissed him, her tongue jabbing into his mouth. His hands moved past her robe and cupped her bottom, pulling her against him.

"Mmm, I've been looking forward to this all day," she moaned moving down to his neck. She threw off her robe, then ran her fingers through his hair, tilting his head up so she could kiss him again.

"I'm feeling quite lucky, myself," he said, grunting when she pushed him on to his back and climbed into bed, straddling his hips.

"Quiet," she said sultrily, pulling her camisole up over her head and throwing it to the floor. "Tonight you do what I say, babes. Tonight, I'm the boss."

He grinned and nodded as she kissed her way down his body, pulling his pyjamas down his legs and off.

 **BOSK Restaurant, Shangri-La Hotel, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 20, 2017**

"We were very impressed by your performance in _Shattered_. It showed range beyond your television character, and that you can handle a different type of part."

Mary nodded and took a sip of her water. She smiled politely to both of the producers sitting across the table before replying. "It's funny that I'm known as Jade to most people now. I had a wide variety of roles back in England – theatre, musicals, television, and film. I've enjoyed my time on _Paladin_ , however, I'm looking forward to new opportunities, and one thing that intrigues me about Alice is that she's not just a politician's wife. She's quite political herself, and that's always fun to play."

The producers nodded, seeming to be pleased with her answer. They kept eating their meal, trading comments on the film, the script, details on filming locations. She tried to assuage their concerns about whether she could handle a French production. Her character would be speaking English the entire movie, but most of the other actors and crew would be speaking French. She switched into her well-trained French accent and maintained a conversation with them in that language for several minutes, satisfying their concerns.

As she took another sip of water, she felt calm and at ease. She wasn't entirely sold on the movie, but it was a job, and she wanted to make sure she kept her options open, charmed these producers enough to keep her in consideration. They were speaking as though she already had the part, but she wasn't fooled. Producers, directors, and agents always spoke in tongues, acting as though they were her best friends when they were really breaking her down and comparing her to other actresses in their minds. She stayed on message, giving off a sophisticated and confident air, walking the line between seeming interested, but not desperate.

By the time the after-dinner coffees were served, she felt that she'd done enough to make a good impression. Aunt Rosamund would have to follow-up and convince them to schedule an audition, and perhaps move her up the queue. There was a bit less competition, being that it was an English part in a French film, but she still wasn't their first choice, so she'd have to fight for it.

"It has been most enjoyable meeting you, Mary. We will go back and share our findings with the rest of the production team, but I expect a decision soon, as I know you want to set your schedule."

"I'm eager to get on with my next role, yes. I don't do too well with sitting around," she joked.

"One last thing we wanted to discuss was to ensure that you're comfortable with the material. We like to think that our project is quite unique, presenting a story that is far from what has been done before, especially in the relationship between the politician and his wife. Do you have any reservations about the script?"

She paused to consider her response. "There are certainly several scenes that grabbed my attention. The arguments. The violence. The abuse. I thought they were edgy, even shocking, but not necessarily objectionable in the context of the story."

The producer nodded. "That's good to hear. We also know you have never done nudity on camera before, and just want to be sure that the demands of the role would not be a problem."

She smiled politely, her chest tightening. "No problem at all."

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, April 21** **, 2017**

Anna brushed her wet hair, staring at her reflection in the mirror of her vanity. The television was playing in the background, the air still warm from the shower. The early morning sun shone in through the windows. She took her time, using slow, smooth strokes. The warmer weather could do havoc with her hair if she wasn't careful.

"Love, have you seen my phone?" Alex called from the bedroom.

"It's in here on the counter," she replied, not looking away from the mirror.

He came trudging into the bathroom, still wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still damp from their shower. Going over to his sink, he picked up his missing phone.

"Thanks," he said, shaking his head. "I thought I brought it out with me."

She continued to brush her hair, noticing that he frowned as he scrolled over his phone screen.

"You've got lunch today at Canoe at 11:30 and your first afternoon appointment is a call at 2," she said easily, still looking at her reflection. "I should be done by 7, so plan on dinner for around 8 as long as nothing comes up."

He looked up from his phone and smiled at her. She smirked as her eyes met his in the mirror.

"I'm your wife. It's my job to know what you're up to," she teased.

He put his phone down and moved towards her.

"Babes, I have to get ready for work, and so do you," she warned, recognizing that look in his eyes. "We already did it in the shower. You'll just have to wait until tonight for the next round."

He scowled at her petulantly. She grinned and stuck her tongue out at him.

Rolling his eyes, he went back to grab his phone. Taking off the towel, he threw it in the hamper and walked naked back into the bedroom.

She rolled her eyes and put the brush down, turning her head to check her hair. Her phone beeped and she looked down, blinking as she saw the timer read five minutes.

Swallowing in trepidation, she got up from her chair and stared across the bathroom at her sink, the blue and white plastic test sitting in its usual spot on the counter. The familiar shiver ran down her spine, the usual pending sense of frustration and anger pooling in her stomach. Taking a deep breath, she resolved to just get it over with and strode briskly over to the counter, picking up the test and flipping it over, a resigned look on her face as she sighed despondently.

"A…Alex! ALEX!"

He came into the bathroom, having changed into black trousers, his white dress shirt still unbuttoned.

"Yeah, love? What is it?" he asked casually, looking up at her.

She swallowed and tried to speak, but she couldn't. She just turned her head and looked at him, her mouth opening and closing, her eyes wide.

"Anna?" he asked, frowning slightly at her expression. He stepped towards her.

"I…I…" she managed, her voice shaky, waving her hand at him. She swallowed and cleared her throat, finally gasping out the words. "I'm pregnant."

His eyes bulged and he closed the distance to her in a flash. "What?"

A cross between a sob and a laugh burst from her lips. She handed him the test and covered her mouth with both hands, tears spilling down her cheeks as she dared not believe it. She watched his face light up as he looked at the test, then back at her, his smile wide and adoring. She felt his love wash over her, making her own suprise and delight seem all the more thrilling.

"You're pregnant," he confirmed, nodding his head.

He swept her up off the floor and sat her on the marble counter. She yelped in surprise, then wrapped her arms and legs around him as he kissed her hard, his tongue playing with hers, both of them laughing hysterically.

"I love you so much," he declared, kissing a trail down to her neck, her shoulder and back up to her lips. "You've made me so, so happy..."

She just clung to him and laughed, savouring every second.

"I need to see Dr. Ryder to make sure it's true. Home pregnancy tests say they're 99% accurate, but it's still early. My period might just be late and we could have got a defective test," she said, the glee in her voice betraying her.

"You are going to be the most amazing, wonderful, organized, loving, sexiest mother ever," he said, still kissing every part of her he could reach. "And I am going to be with you for every single moment. I'm not going to miss a thing."

"You better not, seeing how it took you long enough to knock me up," she said, laughing when he pulled back and frowned wryly at her.

"So, about what you said earlier?" he asked, kissing her again and pulling her to the edge of the counter, pressing himself against her intently. "About how I had to wait until tonight?"

She closed her eyes and grinned, tilting her head to give him full access to her neck. "Perhaps I underestimated how much time we have," she said lightly, grinning when she felt his arousal stir against her.

"It's safe, right?" he asked, his voice heavy with lust and anxiousness.

She reached up and took hold of his face, turning his head and kissing him heatedly. "Is it safe to fuck me when I'm pregnant? Definitely."

She laughed as he picked her up and ran from the bathroom, carrying her to bed almost dangerously fast.

 **Nobu New York, Tribeca, Manhattan, New York, USA, April 29, 2017**

"The food here is absolutely incredible!" Sybil exclaimed, glancing across the restaurant. "I barely even know what I'm eating, but it's all been delicious! Did you know that Nobu is actually owned by…"

"Robert De Niro. Yes, I knew that darling, thank you," Mary replied, the tone of her voice over the phone indicating she was clearly rolling her eyes. "I've been to Nobu. I've eaten there, and yes, it's very good."

"I'm so lucky to have a dear friend in Matthew who is willing to take me and Tom to these wonderful places," Sybil said pleasantly, needling her sister. "Inviting us to his wrap party was ever so kind of him."

"I've taken you to plenty of parties and events, thank you," Mary said pointedly.

"He introduced us to everyone as his 'good friends'. He's so sweet," Sybil continued, ignoring Mary's jibe entirely.

"Yes, he's a real champion, that one. My, I was never told that in addition to morning sickness, another symptom of the first trimester is that the pregnant woman becomes insufferably annoying," Mary shot back. "Hopefully Anna won't be similarly afflicted."

"Just wait until my second trimester," Sybil said knowingly. "You haven't told Mum, have you?"

"Sybil, I haven't even spoken to Mum in weeks, besides over text. Why?" Mary asked.

"I don't know. I was talking to Granny today and she was asking me rather strange questions," Sybil replied. "I thought that maybe someone might have spilled to Mum, who would have told everyone."

"That's nothing. Even if Granny did know, she'll forget by tomorrow, so your secret is safe," Mary said dismissively.

Sybil sighed, knowing that her sister was trying to act far braver than she likely felt.

"All right, I should get back. I'm being rude, but I had to call and tell you how great this whole evening has been," Sybil said.

"Go on, darling. I do appreciate the call, though it only reminds me that you're having a fun night with my boyfriend while I'm stuck here all alone. You tell that boy that if he's not waiting for me when I get done work Monday night, he may as well not bother coming back at all," Mary warned.

"Will do. I'm sure that nothing could stop him from getting back to you. He'll probably be on the first flight out in the morning. Good night. Love you, darling," Sybil said.

"Love you. Night," Mary said, hanging up.

Sybil put her phone away and went back over to the table, smiling at her husband as she sat back down. She took a sip of water, glancing over at Matthew, sitting across the table, trading jokes and stories with the cast and crew who had come out to see him off and celebrate the end of his time on _The Irishman_. It was a small, but distinguished group, which was so Matthew. He didn't need to be celebrated or have more people come out just to play to his ego. He seemed so at ease, so relaxed, despite being in the presence of such Hollywood luminaries. Sybil's heart swelled at the sight. She loved him so much, and was so happy for his success, so long fought for and well-earned. In her field, she knew so many pompous assholes who thought they were gods because they were doctors. Over the years, she had met enough actors through Mary whose egos could fill an entire room. Matthew was so different. He had remained humble and kind from the very first day they met as children, and no one deserved a little time in the limelight more.

"What do you think about naming the baby 'Al' if it's a boy?" Tom asked eagerly.

She turned to look at him, smiling patiently. One hand went to her stomach, the other squeezed his hand. "Not a chance in hell."

He laughed. The two of them resumed conversation with the other guests as the next course in the chef's Omakase menu was served.

 **Optima Concord CityPlace, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 29, 2017**

 _'All right, I'm going to bed. See you on set tomorrow.'_

Green smiled as he read Anna's text. He fired off a quick reply on his way to the kitchen.

 _'Good night. Sweet dreams. See you tomorrow.'_

Opening his fridge, he grabbed a beer, popped the cap, then went through to the living room and sat down on the couch. He took a long swig, then reached over to the coffee table and opened his laptop.

Entering his numerous passwords, he opened up the hidden directory on his Cloud drive, scrolling through the files, a smile on his face. It never ceased to amaze him how reckless people were with their online security these days. Everyone had computers that were preloaded with special software that was supposed to protect them against hacking, viruses, security threats and identity theft, but no one bothered to put any real effort into the most vulnerable point of any system – their login passwords.

It was ridiculously easy to break into even somewhat sophisticated networks with just a handful of tricks. People were lazy. They never changed their passwords as often as was recommended, and more often than not, they used stupidly simple ones such as their telephone numbers or birthdates, the names of their children or partners. Information that was readily available in the public domain contained a wealth of possible passwords and answers to backup questions used to reset those passwords. Most login programs and email accounts allowed multiple attempts, again factoring in that people were too stupid to remember their basic information.

He scrolled over nude photos and private home videos that he easily downloaded from different women he'd met over the years and celebrities that he'd successfully hacked. He was able to come and go without being noticed because there was never any trace of unauthorized entry. He made a rule of never touching financial information, and never posting anything online. This was all for his private enjoyment only. Rachel had an entire collection that was quite raunchy, considering she was a policewoman. But then again, he didn't even need to break into her phone. She had been more than willing to pose for him when he simply asked her to.

Thinking of Rachel made him think of Anna, and he smiled and took another pull of his beer. The two women were of a similar height and size. He often pictured Anna when he was fucking Rachel, but luckily he hadn't slipped up and said her name out loud yet. Predictably, Anna's passwords were quite robust. His attempts to access her Cloud accounts had failed quickly, and he hadn't tried again. He wasn't really interested in sneaking around her files anyway. If all went according to plan, he'd have fresh content of her in due time.

The blonde personal assistant had been rather cheerful as of late, probably the result of her husband being back in town. Green didn't care about that. The better mood Anna was in, the more flirty she was with him. She spent far more time each day with him than she did with her husband anyway, so he was benefitting all around. His patient and careful steps were paying off now. When they first met, she saw him as a colleague, then as a responsibility, someone she needed to help transition to a new show and new city. By getting her to spend more time with him, he was able to establish an easy friendship, helped along by their shared experiences and just enough kind gestures to make her think that he cared. His failed attempt to seduce her infuriated him, but it was also liberating. With Tony and Mabel no longer interested in her, he could do things his way, turn her into exactly what he wanted.

The way she behaved around him now indicated that she was beginning to see and think of him less as just a friend and more as a man. He had carefully reminded her every so often that he had needs, was someone who didn't care for commitment, and who kept women satisfied, very satisfied. She'd seen the waitresses who flirted with him and tried to win his attention. She'd noticed women approach him when they went out together. Most helpful of all, Rachel's firsthand account of his prowess from a few weeks ago had likely had a profound and lingering effect. Anna was curious, he could tell. She wondered just how he could turn a strong, independent, married woman like Rachel into an adulteress.

It was ironic, really, how Anna thought she could play with him and remain safe. She could laugh and flirt with him, tell herself it was all completely harmless and would never lead to anything. He was exactly where he wanted to be, seen by her as someone she could behave just a little bit improperly with, but never actually reach the point of betrayal. With about two months left to go in his stay, he had more than enough time to push her closer and closer to the breaking point. That seed of an idea – that he was good in bed – was almost as powerful as the stimulants and drugs that he would use on her to seal her fate.

His arousal grew as he contemplated all he had planned for her. Returning to his laptop screen, he contemplated which of his two more favourite videos to watch tonight. The Lord Grantham movie was more a comedy than anything else. He had to admit that Cora Crawley in her younger days had been quite good looking, and whatever she lacked in her body, she made up for in sheer enthusiasm. Americans could be so filthy. Similarly, Jane Moorsum, the quiet and seemingly shy housemaid, while ordinary in appearance, was shockingly vocal when aroused. Green didn't know if he liked this video more because of the sex, or because it was so funny that he had so easily cracked Lord Grantham's password and stolen it from his Cloud account. Either way, it was good for a laugh, and highly entertaining.

Changing his mind, he touched the other video instead, opening the media player program to full screen mode and taking another sip of his drink. Tony would probably kill him if he knew he had this, but the fool didn't know the first thing about computers, so his secret was safe.

It was taken by a camera that only one person knew was even there, a camera that had very sharp resolution and decent audio pickup, considering it was recorded nearly seven years ago. It had taken some doing to track it down, a very lucky stroke being that the man who set it up, the same man who starred in the video itself, had transferred it to a digital file and backed it up to his Cloud drive more recently. It had taken Green months to find it, and weeks before he successfully snatched it, but it was entirely worth it.

The video started with Mabel sitting on a couch, facing the camera. She had no clue she was being filmed. The camera had probably been placed behind one-way glass or something, Green surmised. Mabel's hair was shorter back then, but her high cheekbones, her pale skin and her sharp eyes were still the same. She had never really been Green's type. He didn't find her attractive. He liked this video more for what it represented than what was actually on it – the easy manipulation of a greedy, ambitious young actress desperate for approval.

 _'Take off your shirt.'_

Mabel looked past the camera to the man directing her. She hesitated, the conflict obvious on her face. She didn't reject the order immediately, and was contemplating it, though she was clearly disgusted by it.

 _'Take off your shirt.'_

Her fingers slowly moved to her neck and began undoing the buttons, one, then two, then three. When her black bra became visible, she hesitated again, then undid the rest of the buttons but left the shirt on.

 _'Are you wasting my time, Miss Lane Fox? Are you not the right woman for this role?'_

She shuddered at his cold voice. After a slight pause, she quickly removed her shirt and set it aside, now sitting in just her bra and a skirt that just reached her knees.

 _'You know, Mary Crawley was far easier to work with. She took direction much quicker. She understood what I wanted, what was expected of her, and she gave it to me without hesitation. That's the kind of actress I'm looking for. Someone who knows her role. Someone who is willing to push herself to give me what I want.'_

Mabel seemed to recoil at the mention of Mary's name, her eyes widening for a moment. The voice continued, taunting her.

 _'But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you can't measure up to her. She told me as much. She said you weren't half the actress she was, that I was wasting my time considering you for this part. She then proceeded to show me how much better she was than you, in all areas. I decided to give you an opportunity all the same, but I'm beginning to wonder if she wasn't right? Maybe you can't compete with her. Maybe you're not in her league.'_

Mabel swallowed nervously, then raised her chin in defiance. She reached behind her and undid her bra, removing it and placing it neatly on top of her blouse. Rather than cover herself, she placed her hands at her sides, holding the man's gaze. Green smiled. Mabel had a deceptively nice rack.

 _'Very good. Now, I expect complete obedience. Show me that you can be a star, and I will make you one.'_

Green couldn't really blame Mable for what she did. The man in the video was a heavyweight producer. He had the power and the authority to do what he said. Mabel reluctantly consented to all that followed. The old man was a dirty bastard, but he knew exactly how to play her, exactly what he needed to say to keep her meek and compliant, go along with every command until he sated himself. There were times where Mabel seemed almost detached and indifferent, no longer caring what he was doing, just wanting to get it over with and receive her reward. The asshole even dared to pet her on the head when it was all over, making her all manner of promises that would never be fulfilled, then leaving the room before she could get dressed.

Green kept this video to ensure his job security more than anything else. He didn't think that Tony would ever sack him anyway, but it was nice to hold this guarantee nonetheless. He never would have known of its existence until Tony told him about why Mabel hated Lady Mary so much.

There were times when Green looked at Mabel, or the rare occasion when she would talk to him, that it was all he could do to not laugh in her face. She suspected that he didn't respect her, but she considered him beneath her anyway, so she didn't care for his opinion. If she knew precisely why he found her amusing, she would certainly care then.

He closed his laptop and got up off the couch, finishing his beer and bringing it to the kitchen to put in the recycling bin. Stretching his arms, he went to the bedroom, lurid dreams of a petite blonde awaiting him. As he began undressing to go to sleep, he laughed to himself, shaking his head at how life could be so cruel to some, and funny to others at the same time.

Once he found Mabel's video and watched it, he had to track down Lady Mary's audition tape as well. Initially, he was disappointed when he found out that Lady Mary hadn't said or done any of the things that the producer had bragged to Mabel that she had, but he soon found the humour in it all. How poetic it was that Mabel had not only never won the role she was promised, the role that went to Mary instead, but that all of her sacrifices had been based on a lie. Years ago, Green had debated revealing the truth to her and Tony, but he dismissed that idea rather quickly. Mabel hated Mary, was so jealous of her and wrongly blamed her for so many perceived injustices that she would have found another excuse to proceed with her scheme regardless. The woman was a bitter, manipulative bitch, and knowing the truth only amused Green all the more as he watched her proceed with her obsession. She was even willing to let Tony go in return for his aid in bringing Mary down. How could he have any sympathy for someone so twisted?

Stripping naked, he turned off the light and slipped under the duvet. Mabel and Tony's work was essentially done. Lady Mary's career was teetering, already derailed from the rise that _Shattered_ ought to have given her. He closed his eyes and stroked himself, smiling as he forgot all about his superiors and focused on Anna instead.

"I'm going to make you scream for me, you sweet little slut," Green whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

**Previously:**

 **Optima Concord CityPlace, Downtown Toronto, Canada, April 29, 2017**

He closed his laptop and got up off the couch, finishing his beer and bringing it to the kitchen to put in the recycling bin. Stretching his arms, he went to the bedroom, lurid dreams of a petite blonde awaiting him. As he began undressing to go to sleep, he laughed to himself, shaking his head at how life could be so cruel to some, and funny to others at the same time.

Once he found Mabel's video and watched it, he had to track down Lady Mary's audition tape as well. Initially, he was disappointed when he found out that Lady Mary hadn't said or done any of the things that the producer had bragged to Mabel that she had, but he soon found the humour in it all. How poetic it was that Mabel had not only never won the role she was promised, the role that went to Mary instead, but that all of her sacrifices had been based on a lie. Years ago, Green had debated revealing the truth to her and Tony, but he dismissed that idea rather quickly. Mabel hated Mary, was so jealous of her and wrongly blamed her for so many perceived injustices that she would have found another excuse to proceed with her scheme regardless. The woman was a bitter, manipulative bitch, and knowing the truth only amused Green all the more as he watched her proceed with her obsession. She was even willing to let Tony go in return for his aid in bringing Mary down. How could he have any sympathy for someone so twisted?

Stripping naked, he turned off the light and slipped under the duvet. Mabel and Tony's work was essentially done. Lady Mary's career was teetering, already derailed from the rise that _Shattered_ ought to have given her. He closed his eyes and stroked himself, smiling as he forgot all about his superiors and focused on Anna instead.

"I'm going to make you scream for me, you sweet little slut," Green whispered.

 **Chapter 8:**

 **Pinewood Studios Toronto, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, May 1, 2017**

The bra was red silk tulle, sheer with floral motifs embroidered in strategic areas. The matching panties seemed to fit like a second skin, both pieces covering enough to leave something to the imagination, but not much. The lace corset belt wrapped around her midriff, thin snaps attaching to her red garters and stockings.

"I think your lingerie cost more than most people's mortgage payments," Anna noted, zipping up the corset at the back and tying the silk clasps.

Mary laughed, looking at her reflection in the full length mirror hung on the closet door of her trailer, turning side-to-side to make sure everything was properly tied and fastened. She decided to get ready here so she could go straight to Matthew's apartment and avoid the paparazzi that still waited regularly outside her building. There was also the added advantage of having the hair and make-up people attend to her before she got dressed, or more accurately, undressed. A frisson of delight ran up her back as she looked herself over. Her dark brown hair was styled in loose waves and gathered just past her shoulders. Her lips were painted red to match her lingerie, and contrasted well with her alabaster skin. Matthew would already be eager to see her tonight, his first night back after nearly two months away, but seeing her looking like this would have him grovelling at her feet.

Or, he might lose it, strip her naked and put her on her back within seconds. She was fine with either scenario.

"Normally I wouldn't go to such a bother, but he did buy it for me, so I suppose I should wear it for him at least once, and what better occasion than tonight? I have to admit that it feels quite nice, not nearly as constrictive as I expected. I can actually breathe," Mary noted, adjusting the cups of her bra.

Anna laughed and stepped back, going over to the counter and taking another nibble of her cinnamon raisin bagel. Mary watched her with a knowing smirk.

"Is that all you're going to be eating for the next three months? Cinnamon raisin bagels all day long?" Mary teased, looking at her over her shoulder and arching her eyebrow.

"It helps with my morning sickness," Anna replied with a shrug. "It also keeps me from starving. When I made dinner the other night, I felt queasy for the first time and didn't want to touch any food. Alex researched it a bit and found that some women said eating bagels helped. He went out at 9 o'clock at night and brought back six different kinds. Cinnamon raisin was the only one I actually felt like eating."

Mary smiled and put on her red dress, Anna coming over to help her zip it up. "So Alex is enjoying these first few weeks, then?" Mary asked.

"He's been an absolute sweetheart," Anna gushed, smiling stupidly. "I'm sure all of his attention will become very annoying in due time, but so far it's been fabulous. I've gotten massages and baths every night, and he even reads to my stomach when we go to bed."

Mary smiled and shook her head. "Don't tell Sybil any of that. She had Tom sleep on the couch for the first two months. Just the thought of him touching her made her want to vomit."

Anna laughed, then smiled to herself as she took another bite of her bagel.

"Clearly you're not having any problems in that regard," Mary noted, smiling when her assistant blushed in response.

"Well, no," Anna said, trying to contain herself. "I haven't sent him to the couch yet."

Mary looked at her pointedly, clearly expecting a more detailed answer.

"It feels…incredible," Anna whispered, covering her mouth when Mary laughed conspiratorially. "It must be all the hormones or something, but I can't get enough of him. I don't understand, really, because the first trimester I'm supposed to feel ill and bloated and certainly not…randy. Some women are never in the mood for sex over the entire pregnancy."

"Well count yourself lucky, then," Mary said, touching her friend's arm. "If anyone deserves to have a nice and easy go of it, it's you."

Anna smiled and took another bite of her bagel.

Mary fetched her Hermés bag from the nearby chair. "Well, it seems both of us ought to be in a very good mood tomorrow."

"You more than me," Anna replied. "Even on our best day, Alex and I don't get anywhere close to the contortions that I bet you and Matthew can pull off."

"Anna!" Mary exclaimed, looking at her in shock.

Anna didn't back down, doing a reasonable copy of Mary's own arched eyebrow.

"I wouldn't call them contortions, exactly," Mary said, rolling her eyes. "He can just be very…creative…is all."

Anna laughed. "And you're not?"

Mary looked down and smiled. "Maybe I am. Besides, he's been away, so this is a special situation. I expect that we both will have…ideas…to try out."

Their shared laugh was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Mary?" Tony called. "Do you have a second?"

Mary rolled her eyes and shook her head at Anna. "The man has impeccable timing."

Anna laughed and went over to open the door. Tony nodded to her and popped his head in, smiling when he saw Mary.

"I was thinking we could grab a bite and run lines for the seduction scene," he suggested cheerfully. "There's some fast exchanges and I want to make sure we have our pacing down."

"Seduction scene?" Mary questioned before blinking and nodding in comprehension. "Ah! You mean the confrontation? I don't call it the 'seduction scene'. I just refer to it as the 'slapping scene'."

Anna smiled.

"Yes, that's probably more accurate," he agreed. "You'll understand why I'm not too eager to rehearse that specific part of the scene."

"Oh, don't worry," Mary said, her eyes full of mischief. "The red on your cheek will make you seem more rugged."

He smiled and shook his head.

"Anyway, I'm afraid I'm on my way out, so we won't be able to run lines tonight. However, we're not filming that scene until next week, so we should have plenty of time to get it right beforehand," Mary said, moving towards the door.

"Perhaps tomorrow then? We're due to start after lunch so we can get together earlier, say mid-morning?" he suggested, stepping aside to let the women come out.

Mary shared a knowing glance with Anna. "I can't make it here before lunch. I'm anticipating being quite busy tomorrow morning."

Anna smirked and followed behind Mary.

"Well, we'll figure it out. Have a good night," he said politely.

Mary reached up and patted his cheek as she stepped past him. "I most certainly will. Good night, Tony."

He watched her head to the exit with Anna, her high heels clicking on the floor. When she finally disappeared, he shook his head ruefully and left for his own trailer.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, May 1, 2017**

Mary gulped down the last of her water quickly, setting the empty glass aside on the nightstand. She took deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. Closing her eyes, she put her hand on her chest, feeling her heart beating madly.

Her expensive lingerie lay in tatters on the bedroom floor, along with the rest of their clothing. She had arrived to a candlelight dinner, just a light vegetable pasta. He had eaten on the plane, she had eaten on set, and neither of them wanted to fill up too much. They had a lovely conversation, he telling her about going to see the Cherry Blossoms at Brooklyn Botanic Garden with Sybil and Tom yesterday, and she describing being dragged to the Toronto Blue Jays baseball game by Anna and Alex. They shared a key lime cupcake and espressos for dessert. She went to the bathroom while he cleared the dishes and she came back out wearing much less clothing. He had pushed her back into the bedroom and now here they were.

"Don't tell me you're worn out already. I've only gotten you there three times so far. We're not even close to our record," Matthew drawled, sitting up behind her and kissing her shoulder. His arms came around her waist and pulled her back against him, their heated skin pressed together.

"You're not playing fair," she gasped, turning her head and kissing him. "Making me go without you for nearly two months, it's been so long since I've had…since I've felt…mmm…I'm going to be absolutely useless tomorrow."

"Then call in sick. I don't have anywhere to be," he teased, moving down to lick her neck. His hands came up and massaged her breasts, drawing another moan from her. "We can spend all day...catching up."

"Mmm, so unfair," she whispered, leaning back against him. "You know you can get me to agree to anything right now."

"What about doing that thing we talked about last week?" he asked, pressing feathery kisses just below her ear.

"Yes, anything you want," she breathed. "As soon as I can feel my legs again."

He laughed, pulling her down to the bed. She turned in his arms and nuzzled his shoulder, breathed in his scent, sighing happily as she snuggled with him.

"I missed you," he said softly, stroking his fingers up and down her back. "Have you missed me?"

"Mmm, desperately. Isn't it obvious?" she replied sultrily. "Seeing Anna so happy these past few days has made me miss you even more. I'm so glad to have you back, darling."

"I'm glad to be back," he said, kissing the top of her head. "I'm looking forward to having these next two months off. I've been going non-stop since last year."

"Must be nice. I, on the other hand, will be swamped. I might have quite a bit of time off soon enough, however," she said, opening her eyes and sighing.

"Don't say that. You're going to book a job. Didn't you say things were going well with those two French films?" he asked.

"I'm still in the running at least," she confirmed. "I'm beginning to lean towards _The Muse_. It's a better cast and a more interesting project. It could potentially be very good for me, which most likely means I won't get it."

"Come on," he chastised her. "Since when does Lady Mary Crawley just give up even before the audition?"

"You're right," she admitted. "It just seems that for the past while every piece of good news is followed by something horrible. Every time I feel as though I've got decent momentum, it comes to a grinding halt. It seems safer to be cynical than optimistic."

"It's easier, not better. We're actors. When things don't work out, we move on to the next opportunity and keep on going," he said firmly. " _Shattered_ cleared $100 million last weekend. That's good news."

"$150 million worldwide," she noted. "Besides back home, they love us in Australia and Spain."

"Apparently very few people in Paraguay appreciate a good cheating story, however," he joked. "Bunch of judgemental wankers."

She laughed and kissed his chest, running her hands up and down his body, reacquainting herself with him. Going from _Shattered_ to _Black Panther_ ,to _The Irishman_ , he had to stay in impeccable shape, and she was delighted to be reap the benefits.

"Maybe we could pitch the studio on doing a sequel?" she suggested.

He chuckled. "A sequel? And what would the plot be?"

"Oh, I don't know," she mused, sliding her leg up and down his thigh suggestively. "We pick things up with Nico and Christina still together, having hot, wild, filthy sex. I haven't worked out the rest of it yet."

"Sounds like the beginnings of an Oscar winner to me," he said, laughing and hugging her to him.

"Matthew?" she asked lightly, lifting her head to look at him.

"Mmm?" he answered, glancing at her dark eyes.

"I know I keep saying it, but for this next film, pick one that you really want to do," she advised. " _Black Panther_ will be good exposure, and _The Irishman_ will be quite prestigious, but this next one will be your first leading role. Don't worry about whether we'll be in the same city, or even the same country. Don't look for a project that has a role for me. Decide on what you want, and go for it."

He looked at her solemnly and nodded. "All right."

"I just want you to have every possible opportunity to succeed," she continued. "If I've learned anything from all that's happened since Henry's scandal, it's that this business is even more fickle than I thought, and everything is so fleeting. Just last summer when we wrapped, I thought my career had never been better. I felt poised for so much success. Now…well, it's all changed."

He reached up and caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"How do you measure success?" he asked quietly.

She arched her eyebrow at his question. "Doing good work, generating a good return for the studio – either good ratings or a decent box office – and feeling as though I'm advancing, making progress."

He nodded. "Winning awards?"

"Yes," she agreed.

"Having more followers? Getting more fan mail?" he continued.

She frowned. "That's part of it, yes. What are you getting at?"

He smiled. "Success is a relative term if you base it on subjective measurements. On your criteria, _Furious 7_ would be considered a bigger success than _Citizen Kane_ , Taylor Swift would be deemed to be above Ella Fitzgerald, Zac Efron a bigger star than Marlon Brando."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm not saying that popularity and money are the only measures of success, but as an actress, if you want to keep getting good roles, you need to be bankable. Obviously I'm not in it for the money. The parts that I want are reserved for those actresses that the studios think can draw audiences. It's not enough for me to say that I'm talented and hard working. I have to be able to back it up with results to be taken seriously."

"I know," he said patiently. "My point is just that even by your own definition, you're already a success, darling. If you never work another day in your life, you've already achieved so much. _Paladin_ is going to have a following for years to come. Our movie, our wonderful movie that's barely been out for six weeks, has already made back its budget several times over. I absolutely hate what you're having to go through right now, being shamed and branded through no fault of your own, but you will get through it. Your career can be whatever you want it to be, but it's already a success. Nothing can change that."

She exhaled, a smirk slowly spreading across her lips. "I used to hate such sentimental drivel, you know."

He chuckled. "But not anymore."

"It depends on who's saying it, I suppose," she teased. "Fine. How do you measure success if not through numbers and accolades?"

He smiled at her warmly. "I don't define success only in terms of having a career. To me, success is having a good life."

She scoffed, smiling at him wryly. "All right. And what makes for a good life?"

"Being fulfilled, which can come from having a career that you're proud of," he began.

She nodded.

"Loving someone," he said pointedly. "Being loved in return."

She smiled and kissed his chest, keeping her eyes on his.

"Just living each day so that by the end of it, you can be happy with all you've done, and look forward to whatever tomorrow holds," he said. "It's not sentimental, darling. It's logical. Success can't be pleasing an employer, or catering to the whims of fans. If that were so, the moment those preferences change, you're no longer a success, even though you're not any different at all. That makes no sense. There has to be something more profound than that. There has to be a place that you strive to get to where all of the outside influences and factors don't matter nearly as much as the way you feel inside, when you know you're a success and don't have to be told that you are."

"Goodness, now you're getting philosophical, speaking of transcending all of the labels society puts on people," she joked.

"Maybe. I've just been thinking about what truly matters. Take Mother, for example, what makes her happy?" he said.

Her eyes softened. Any mention of Isobel automatically made her think of Granny.

"Do you think that Mother cares about Violet's Oscars and other awards, or how much her films brought in? Do you think she ever cared?" he pondered rhetorically. "To her now, life is good if she wakes up and Violet recognizes her. If she gets another day to talk and argue and laugh and walk with her, that's a good day. Of course, they're old, and in her prime, Violet achieved all manner of material and career success, but what's more important? Those awards, all of her money, or making her loved ones smile for a while longer?"

She sighed, looking away from him for a moment. "It's funny, you know, I was always impressed by those golden statues. I would stare at them for hours, and sometimes Granny would even let us touch them. Edith and I would hold them up and pretend to give acceptance speeches while Sybil watched. But even back then, back when we were children, it wasn't so much the awards themselves that mattered to me. It was that Granny had won them. I liked to admire them and hold them, but I absolutely loved just sitting with her and hearing all her stories."

"Now that almost sounds like you're being sentimental," he teased.

"I'm not often called sentimental," she noted. "Never, in fact."

"I said 'almost'," he replied with a smirk. "Your cold and unfeeling image is still intact, don't worry."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "So then, Mr. Crawley," she said playfully. "How successful are you? How is your life?"

He smiled and nodded. "Right here, right now, life is very good."

"Since when did you become so smooth?" she laughed, letting him pull her into a warm kiss.

"Perhaps I always was and you're just now paying attention?" he said cheekily, kissing her again.

"Perhaps," she allowed. "Saying that life is good right now implies that it can't get any better, though."

"I don't know about that. Are you suggesting that it can?" he asked.

"I'm willing to bet on it," she said, quirking her eyebrows playfully at him. "Let me show you."

He let out a groan as she kissed her way down his body.

 **Advice from a Caterpillar, Summerhill, Toronto, Canada, May 6, 2017**

Anna smiled as she watched Alex examine a Danish baby changing table that cost over $1,000. He tested the pad for softness, pulled the storage boxes out to feel the material, and even lifted the table up to gauge its weight. When he was finished, he stepped back and looked at it as though he was appraising an original Picasso.

"It's Walnut," he said, speaking in a serious tone as though he had any clue what he was talking about. "Adjustable height. Fits babies up to 3 years old."

"I should hope our child is out of nappies by 3," she commented, holding in her laughter as she watched him closely.

"Well, in an ideal world, maybe, but it might take a bit longer. And those measurements are based on averages anyway. If the child is tall for its age, then it'll outgrow the table sooner," he replied seriously.

She shook her head and followed as he moved on to go examine different linens. He was the only man in the store. She felt sorry for the poor associate who made the mistake to come over and offer her assistance.

"Babes, I thought we weren't going to get all this posh stuff for the nursery," she said, smiling at him in amusement. "Didn't we agree that we wanted to keep things simple, not just spend money on expensive items when there's perfectly fine alternatives?"

He frowned and looked at her indignantly. "Yeah, we said that, but we might as well figure out what's available. I mean, just because something's expensive doesn't mean that it doesn't have some benefits. There's so much more research these days than there was when we were born. We shouldn't be against investing in the nursery and filling it with things that will help the baby's development, especially since we can afford it."

"Investing? Mmm hmm," she said, nodding her head. "And what exactly will be the benefit to the baby of those Baby Jordans that you were looking to 'invest' in online?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Well, the baby has to wear shoes."

She rolled her eyes and took his arm. "Come on, Daddy. I think there's several months to go before we need to even think about any of this. We don't even know whether we're having a boy or a girl yet."

He reluctantly left the store, walking outside with her into the gorgeous sunshine. He escorted her the short distance to the kerb where the Lamborghini was parked, lifted the vertical scissor door and helped her into her seat. Seconds later, they were cruising down the street, top down, music playing.

"So I have an idea," he began.

She rolled her eyes and smiled at him. "You've always got ideas. Babes, we really don't have time. Once we get home, we have to get ready for dinner with Mary and Matthew. We can't be late."

"I wasn't talking about _that_ ," he said defensively. "Although I do have an idea for later on. No, I mean an idea for July. If you're going to go over to France with Mary, I want to go, too."

She blinked and looked at him from behind her dark sunglasses. "What?"

"I want to go with you," he repeated. "I know nothing is firm yet, but if she does get a part over there, then I don't want to be separated from you for a month or more. We can find a close to the filming location to rent for a few months or whatever, and that way we don't have to do the long distance thing."

"But how will you work?" she asked, feeling warm inside at his suggestion. "We might be in Paris, or we might be stuck in some remote village with no WiFi. You can't exactly bring Mrs. Chen along with you."

"She loves France, actually," he countered. "I'll figure it out. It will actually be easier for me to take meetings in London if I'm already over there. Besides, if I have to come back here for a few days here and there, that's fine. I just don't want to be away from you. There will be new experiences, changes that you'll go through every day, and I want to be there."

"I highly doubt you'll be able to help when I'm gassy and miserable," she remarked.

"Whatever. I want to be there, and it's not just because of the baby. Spending a summer together in France – it sounds like a dream. I'd be stupid to not be all over it," he said. "So what do you think?"

"I think it'll be terribly inconvenient. Having you there will cut in on my time with Pierre," she teased.

He frowned at her. "Pierre, eh? Are you sure it isn't Louis?"

"Hmm, no, Pierre sounds better. Pierre from Paris. Tall, dark wavy hair, fit body, doesn't speak a word of English, has a sexy French accent and looks like a model out of an Yves St. Laurent commercial. Yeah, Pierre," she said sweetly.

"Pierre, right," he grumbled. "Pierre's going to get his ass kicked when I get over there."

She laughed and leaned over, kissing him on the cheek and running her hand across his chest. "I think it's a wonderful idea. I hope Mary does get the part she wants because spending a summer with you in France would be perfect."

He smiled and changed lanes, heading back towards their house.

 **Pinewood Studios Toronto, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, May 8, 2017**

"What if I were to entertain your proposal?" Mary asked lightly, turning her head to the side as Tony stood behind her. "What if I were to accept you as my Lord, as my lover?"

"We would rule over this world, create an Empire never before seen, the first union of a Cavalier and a Paladin in known history," he whispered, his breath warm against her neck and shoulder. "We would be legends, Jade."

"Perhaps, however," she added, turning to look at him with cold fury. "I would never, could never forgive you for killing my husband and usurping my right to rule. One day, I will have my revenge, whether I be your wife or not."

His eyes met hers, a sinister smirk curling his lips. His gaze went down to her mouth, then lower still. He wasn't looking at her eyes when he spoke. "Perhaps you will, or perhaps I shall tame you, and drive all thought of duty and loyalty to your dead Emperor from your heart and soul forever."

She frowned, chin raised, lips pursed in a thin line, eyes blazing up at him.

"Are you willing to see which one of us will emerge victorious?" he asked darkly.

She swallowed, her reply cold and hard. "I am, and I will be."

He smiled and leaned towards her, watching carefully to see if she would resist. "Then submit to me."

She grit her teeth, shuddering as he drew near. She glared at him just before she closed her eyes and accepted his kiss.

"And cut!" the director shouted. "Great job! That's the morning done."

The crew applauded.

Tony immediately stepped back and bowed his head.

Mary wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "That was good," she said indifferently.

"I thought so," he said tightly. "Eight hours down, eight to go."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Don't remind me. I don't know how we'll make it to the end of June. This schedule is absolutely brutal."

"One hour at a time, all the way to July," he said, turning away and walking with her off-set. "Will you be taking a break afterwards or have you got something for the summer?"

She looked at him carefully for a moment, finally deciding that he was genuinely curious. Though it was assumed across the industry that she would have difficulty lining up her next project due to the scandals, she didn't want to confirm anything for anyone. "I intend to be working. I'm considering two movies at the moment, both of them set in France."

"Not a bad way to spend your summer," he remarked. "I'm heading back home. I've been offered the lead in _Road_ at the Royal Court from July to September."

She nodded. "Very nice."

"You'll have to let me know when you're in the city," he said, smiling at her.

She smirked. "Yes, definitely. We can have drinks, the three of us – you, me, and Mabel."

"Or maybe just you and me," he said, smiling at her. "Mabel's schedule tends to fill up in the summer, and besides, the two of you don't actually want to spend any time together, if you can help it."

She looked over at him in surprise, then resumed her ambivalent expression. "Well, I can't speak for her. We all go back quite a ways. I've always seen her as a colleague and respected her work. If she doesn't feel the same about me, so be it."

"You may be colleagues by definition, but you're also competitors," he stated easily. "She's in your way and you're in hers, each of you fighting for the same prizes. Isn't that what you told her once? That for one of you to be successful, the other would have to fail?"

She blinked at his dredging up that ancient piece of history. "I was speaking in the hypothetical, if I recall, and it wasn't just her that I was referring to. When an actress wins a part, everyone else has lost, obviously. I don't audition to lose, and I imagine neither does she. So we are in each other's way, or at least, we were. We haven't been up for the same role since Empress Jade years ago."

"Yes, that's correct," he confirmed. "And I do see your view. It was years ago, besides. Mabel isn't one to hold a grudge, but the fact remains that you are rivals professionally. Outside of an awards show or premiere, there's no need for you to socialize with each other. It isn't as if you're friends."

"If your girlfriend is too petty to socialize with me, then fine," she replied easily. "I won't lose sleep over it."

He chuckled. "She does credit you for one thing though, a rather wise piece of advice that you gave her."

She arched her eyebrow. "And what was that, pray?"

"Before the _Paladin_ auditions, you told her that working on a North American production was a different animal altogether, which is true. You said that often the studios over here go with the person who is most committed to the part, who is willing to do absolutely anything and everything to prove that they can play a role, even if it might offend our British sensibilities. The way you said it, with such conviction, showed her just how serious you were about making a go of it here, and showed her how much dedication she needed to do the same," he explained. "You convinced her that you would stop at nothing to get what you wanted, and from then on, she took the same approach. All in. Up for anything."

Her eyes narrowed, thinking back years ago to when she and Mabel had both been in talks for _Paladin_. It was a brief conversation that they'd had after Mary finished her auditions and before Mabel started hers. She had called Mary looking for any hints or advice, as if Mary would be mad enough to aid another actress fighting for the same job. She told her that to scare her, try and get her out of her comfort zone before her audition. It had obviously worked. Mary was awarded the part of Jade days later.

"I did believe that, and I still do. Anything goes. I'm glad that Mabel took my words to heart," she said.

"She most certainly did," he assured her. "All right, I'll see you this afternoon."

She arched her eyebrow, watching him leave her rather abruptly and head back to his trailer.

"What was that all about?" Anna asked, coming over to her and handing her a bottle of water.

"I'm not quite sure," Mary replied, her eyes following Tony into the distance. "It seems that playing Lord Sunder has given Tony a bit of a spine."

Anna looked at her curiously, then followed as they headed for her trailer.

* * *

"What's your secret?"

Anna looked away from the scene being filmed before them and glanced up at Green's smiling face. "What do you mean?"

"You," he said. "You've been in a rather chipper mood for a while now. I'll catch you just smiling at all hours of the day. Here we are, approaching midnight, hour 16 of hopefully only 16, and you're still practically floating. What's your secret?"

"I suppose saying good drugs wouldn't convince you?" she teased.

"No. You're too prim and proper for any of that," he said.

She frowned at him. "And what is that supposed to mean? It's not like you're some rebel, are you? Tony forbids you from even having a cigarette, you said."

"Yes, but I can be discrete when necessary, and I can still get whatever I want if the need arises," he said.

She looked at him suspiciously. "You can? Actually, don't answer that. I don't want to know."

He chuckled. "Of course you don't. It's too offensive to you to imagine such things. Anyway, I'm not forbidden from indulging in certain other vices to help make it through particularly difficult moments. Not that you would know about that, either."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

He smiled as they continued to watch the shoot. "Honestly, though, what's got you in such a great mood? I would think you'd be a bit concerned about Mary's next job."

"I am concerned, it's my job to be concerned," she answered. "I have faith in her though. She'll find something. We might even be in Paris for the summer if things work out."

"Good, then you can take the train and come visit. We're going to be in London for a play," he advised.

"I heard. Why would I go and visit London? Summer is far nicer in Paris," she said, smiling at him.

"The French are all rude snobs," he snorted. "But I could be convinced to make the trip, if you pay for the wine."

She laughed and looked back to the set. Since finding out her wonderful news, she'd deliberately kept it a secret. Only their parents, Mary, Matthew and Sybil knew. It was still early days, but besides that, she liked having this beautiful secret to share only with her husband each day. Smiling at the thought, she dutifully kept watching Mary and Tony act out the scene, hoping they would wrap soon so she could get home, where her husband most likely had a bubble bath waiting for her.

 **Summerhill Room, Shangri-La Hotel, Downtown Toronto, Canada, May 10, 2017**

For a brief second, a moment so short, and yet far too long, Mary was willing to agree to it. Her brain churned out all of the rationalizations and justifications for it, summarized neatly and cleanly in the statement that she was an independent woman, an actress capable of anything and everything, so why not this too? A French director, of a French film, starring a principally French cast asking her to take her clothes off on camera almost seemed normal, the done thing. Europeans were far more progressive in their attitudes towards art, nudity, and women. This wouldn't be gratuitous, flashing her breasts to give audiences a cheap thrill and sell a few more tickets. This was necessary for her character, to convey her vulnerability, or was it her strength; show her pain laid bare, or was it her liberated joy? The script called for nudity, and if she wanted this role, in this movie, she would get naked. That was all there was to it.

She had practically done nude scenes already for _Paladin_ and _Shattered_. She had shown the curves of her breasts, the shape of her bottom, even the silhouette of her naked body, but always there was something guarding her modesty. A properly considered camera angle, a well-positioned piece of clothing, a strip of flesh-coloured tape, even Matthew's body and hands covering her. She was no prude. She was perfectly all right with simulating sex on-screen. But she never did full-frontal nudity.

"Take off your shirt, Mary."

She blinked, staring at the producer, his grey hair and greying moustache, his beady eyes, chubby nose and thin lips. They had run through three different scenes and she had done well with all of them. This was the last request he had of her. Whether he wanted to see her so he could get a sense of how she would look on film, or whether he was just a pervert looking for a free peek, it didn't really matter. If she got the part, she would be naked before millions of people. May as well start with one.

"Mary? Take off your shirt, please."

She agreed in her mind. She needed this job. Countless actresses more popular and in-demand than she was had nude scenes on their résumés. She could almost see the critics praising her raw and real performance, studio executives saying how they liked what they saw from her in this movie, and legions of men drooling over her scenes. Matthew had done that topless shower scene in _Shattered_ and his popularity had increased because of it. Wasn't this the same thing?

"Mary…"

She swallowed. What was it she had told Mabel all those years ago? She would do anything and everything to prove she could play a role, to convince the producers that she was the one they wanted, to win.

"Mary, is there something wrong?"

The producer faded away, replaced by a younger and much more handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes, an adoring and encouraging smile on his face. She never really considered what her family would think of her career choices. She never even considered what Matthew would think before. But now his words came to her as though he was standing in the meeting room. He would tell her to do what she felt was right, even if he disagreed with her decision. He would feel it wasn't his place to tell her what to do with her body, despite desperately wanting to. He would endure the pain of knowing millions of men were seeing what ought to have been only his to enjoy, and never complain about any of it.

He would never mention the truth, the truth that she already knew. If she did this, she would have to live with the fact that she compromised her beliefs just to get a job.

"I'm sorry, but I don't do nudity on-screen," she said, her voice calm though her insides were twisting.

The producer frowned for a moment. "The part calls for two nude scenes, full view of both breasts from the side and front for a total duration of ninety seconds, and full view of the buttocks for a total duration of sixty seconds, as well as allowing fondling and kissing. The way in which the scenes are filmed, we cannot use body doubles, you understand?"

She steeled herself, her lunch threatening to come back up. "I do understand, yes, but my answer remains the same. I do not do nudity, so the scenes will have to be filmed with the suggestion of nudity, which I am quite experienced with."

He sighed and shook his head, looking down at his notes. "I am sorry, Mary. We had high hopes for you in this role, however we cannot use you if you will not comply with what the role demands. Thank you for coming in. Have a nice day."

Her fingers tightened on her script, the urge to curse, to yell, to throw it in his face overwhelming. Instead, she rose from her chair, nodded and uttered a quiet 'thank you', and walked briskly from the room. She didn't allow a tear to fall until she was safely inside the elevator.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, May 14, 2017**

Matthew stretched out on the couch, hand on his forehead, eyes staring up at the ceiling. When he was younger, he would pace back and forth whenever he was debating something important in his mind. Lately he had learned the benefit of just being still, focusing on a point, letting everything else around him recede into the background until clarity came.

Three scripts sat on the glass coffee table beside him. Three scripts for three films that he was considering. His meetings and auditions in New York had gone well, and he had his pick of them now. They weren't blockbusters, or even eagerly anticipated films, but they all had major studio backing, and whichever one he chose, he would play the lead.

He couldn't wrap his mind around the idea even today. It would be his name on the marquee, his face on the movie poster, audiences following his character through the plot. He was so used to being in the background, a member of the chorus, a part of an ensemble in a commercial, or a guest actor on a television show. No one ever said 'Let's go and check out that Matthew Crawley movie'. But now there would be one – a Matthew Crawley movie – even if it was utter rubbish.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, all the information that he had punched into his spreadsheet scrolling through his mind. He had studied each project for so long that he could already picture himself as each of the three different characters. The money was basically the same across all the films. They had modest budgets, but he would still be making more than he ever had in his life. The roles were all uniquely interesting, the surrounding casts relatively even. Mary was right. This all came down to what role he wanted the most, ignoring the outside factors.

He opened his eyes, his thoughts straying to his girlfriend. She had been annoyed when she got back from her audition a few days ago, explaining why she had lost the role. He was angry when he heard her story, wondering how any producer with half a brain could possibly pass on Mary just because she refused to do nudity on camera. It was borderline discriminatory. A part of him was selfishly glad that she'd held firm to her principles, but he hated seeing her so crushed. With that chance gone, all she had left at the moment was _The Muse_ , the other French film.

He sat up slowly and swung his legs around, looking at the scripts, his eyes glancing from one to the next and back again. Which one did he want? Which one would he enjoy working on? Which one would make him happy?

Happiest.

He turned his head when he heard the door open and heels click on the tile.

"Hi," he called when Mary came into the living room.

She came and sat down next to him, kissing him lightly and resting her head on his shoulder. "Hi. I'm absolutely knackered. What's all this?"

He looked back at the scripts, his arm going around her, holding her close. A smile bloomed on his lips.

"These are the films I've been mulling over, trying to decide what my next move will be," he said.

"Ah, and are you any closer to deciding?" she asked, looking at the coffee table.

He nodded and kissed the top of her head. "I just did, rather."

"Good," she said lightly. "Can I ask you for a favour?"

"Of course," he replied, sitting back on the couch and taking her with him.

"Can you read a scene with me for my audition? I need someone who speaks French, but you'll do," she said.

He huffed at her jibe. "My French is exceptional, if I do say so myself. Sure, I'll help. What's the scene about?"

"It's rather intense, actually. It's when my character, the model, realizes that the painter is obsessed with her and confronts him over it," she explained.

"Hmm, a man obsessed with you. I think I can manage that," he said lightly.

She rolled her eyes and slapped his chest. "I wouldn't try and relate us to the characters, darling. Things don't end well for them in the end, which is fitting. Obsession isn't healthy, wouldn't you say?"

"I don't know. I'd have to know more about the couple in question," he joked. "Maybe they're well matched?"

He laughed and she slapped him again, then took out a copy of the script from her bag and handed it to him to study.

 **Salon C, The Ritz-Carlton Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, May 15, 2017**

"The role of Lily is important not only because she is the female lead, but also because the movie is really about her. Antoine is obsessed with her, and everything he does, the story that unfolds, starts with this fact. So, to play Lily, we need an actress that the audience can believe a man would become obsessed with. If they do not believe that is possible, then we have no story, no movie. Lily must not only be beautiful, but intelligent, confident. She must be, how do you say it? _Inoubliable_? Yes, yes, unforgettable. Lily must be unforgettable."

Mary listened as the producer explained the character in his sharp accent. She glanced to her right, still trying to understand why she was brought in with three other actresses. She had thought the audition was just for her. Even if she was competing against someone else on this specific day, why were they all in the room at the same time?

Her eyes wandered past the producer to the table behind him, where the casting director and the director of the movie sat watching silently. She wasn't overly familiar with this studio or the director, but he was experienced and well known in France. He seemed to be observing them all, evaluating them, judging them from the shadows. She felt as though every part of her was being examined by his hard stare – her hair, her makeup, her clothing, even her posture. She was used to auditions where everyone spoke and participated. To have the director just sitting quietly in the background was unnerving.

"All right," the producer said, sitting down in a chair in front of them and picking up his script. "Let's go through the scene, each of you. Remember, make me want you. Be unforgettable."

Mary watched as the other actresses read through the scene with the producer, the same scene that she had practised with Matthew. One girl was a bit too forceful, another too bland, and the third was downright slutty. Still, they got through the scene well enough, such that by the time it was Mary's turn to go, she couldn't tell much of a difference between them.

While watching the other actresses, she noticed the director looking at her again, his gaze not quite focused on the actress auditioning right in front of him. She couldn't read him, nothing on his face showing whether he was even paying attention, or whether he was just bored. What was he thinking? What was in his mind when he looked at her?

She wondered if he had read about Papa's scandal, and Henry's before that. Maybe he had been told in advance by the studio. Maybe that was why he was watching her. Did he think she was a drug user because her supposed boyfriend, Henry Talbot, had been caught with drugs? Did he think she was a spoiled aristocrat who cheated on her taxes? Had he already prejudged her, thinking she was an inferior English actress who couldn't handle a lead role in a French film?

"All right, Mary, you're next."

She automatically rose to her feet, walking over to take her mark in front of the producer, who sat back down in his chair and waited for her to begin the scene. Her eyes took one last look at the director, who seemed to be watching her very closely now, appearing to be far more interested than he had been all afternoon. Looking away from the director, she glanced at the other actresses sitting patiently, each of them probably hoping she would screw up. When she finally turned to face the producer again, her mild annoyance had flared into exasperation.

"Look at you," she snapped, glaring at him. "You think you're so special, sitting on your throne while each of us comes to pay tribute."

The producer blinked in surprise, looking up at Mary in confusion.

"This film isn't about obsession. It's about entitlement, ego, narcissism. Lily's only sin is to be beautiful and intelligent. She's not unforgettable. She's not Helen of Troy, or Cleopatra. She's a woman who posed for an artist to make some extra money, not to become an object for him to have sick fantasies over just because he thinks that's his right as a man," she sneered.

The producer blinked and sat in his chair, afraid to even speak.

"Make me want you?! What kind of bloody bullshit is that? I don't want you to want me. I don't want you to think about me, to look at me, to assume you have any claim to me at all. I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for the transgressions of men, men that I trusted, men who failed me, and now I am forced, through no fault of my own, to suffer because other men in positions of power deemed it so," she fumed.

If she had pulled her cold stare away from the producer, she would have noticed the director watching her closely with an intrigued smirk on his face, but she was too busy with her current target.

"In the end all you men are the same," she declared. "You don't become obsessed with a woman because she's special. You become obsessed because you're weak, and full of yourselves, and cover up all of your own insecurities and deficiencies by trying to get a woman that you can't have. I don't need to prove to you or anyone else that I'm worthy of interest, that I'm a woman that a man could become obsessed with. My worth isn't determined by some sick bastard's opinion. I don't 'make you want me'. I don't even care who you are."

She tossed her script on to the producer's lap, spun on her heel and went back to her seat, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at the director, daring him to say anything.

"Erm…okay. Thank you, everyone. We will have a decision soon, within a few days," the producer said slowly, standing up and looking back at the director with a sceptic glance.

Mary rose from her chair and strode from the room briskly. When the elevator arrived, the other actresses let her go ahead and chose to wait for the next one.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, May 19, 2017**

Matthew removed his shoes and came through to the living room, walked over to the kitchen and set out the groceries for dinner. He marinated the steak and put it in the fridge, then chopped the vegetables for the stir fry. Looking across the counter, he double-checked that he had everything he needed. Meat, vegetables, pasta, wine, dessert. Satisfied, he nodded and left the kitchen. All that was left to do was cook.

He frowned in surprise when he came into the bedroom and noticed Mary's sleeping form. Checking the time on his phone, he blinked in confusion before going over and sitting down beside her. Taking a moment, he smiled as he watched her sleep, her long, brown hair swept across the pillow, her lips parted as she breathed. They had just over a month left together before he would be back to work. It had been difficult to make time for each other with Mary's long hours on-set. She usually came home and went straight to bed to make sure she got enough sleep so she could get up and do it all over again the next day. He liked that she made the effort to come over or have him at hers so they could sleep together each night. Just holding her in his arms while they chatted before she fell asleep was fun for him. It felt so easy, so normal, this domestic routine that they'd fallen into.

Leaning over, he kissed her forehead, then her cheek, moving his lips to the spot below her ear, and along her jaw. He pulled the duvet down so he could reach her neck and shoulder.

"Mmm," she sighed, keeping her eyes closed. She turned away so he could reach her nape, unwinding her body and pushing back against him as he spooned behind her. His hand slipped beneath her t-shirt and caressed her breast. Hers drifted behind to fondle him through his jeans.

"Good evening," he said, his voice heavy and smooth. "I wasn't expecting you for another hour or two, at least."

"We actually wrapped early today, a minor miracle," she replied lazily, keeping her eyes closed. "Tony was pushing to move on to the next page but I killed that idea straight away. We've been on a brutal schedule for months and he wants to add on when we finally get a break. The idiot."

He chuckled and licked her warm skin. "Well, what will we do with all of this extra time?"

She squeezed him one last time, then pulled his hand out of her shirt. "I'm sorry, darling, but I just want to have a kip. If there's going to be any chance at all of me making it through dinner, I really need to rest."

He laughed and gave her bottom a light smack. "All right. Go on. I'll wake you in an hour or so."

"You could always join me?" she suggested bringing his hand up to her lips and kissing his fingers softly.

"That sounds wonderful, darling, but I'm afraid that if I did, sleep would be the last thing on my mind," he teased, kissing her neck again.

"Mmm, I suppose I should be flattered," she said lightly.

"You should be, very much so," he replied, kissing her one last time, then bringing the duvet back up and getting out of bed. He went over and closed the blinds to darken the room before he left her, closing the door behind him. As he came back out into the living room, his phone rang.

"Phyllis, hello," he said, seeing his agent's wife and assistant come up on the call display. "Everything all right? It's close to midnight over there, isn't it?"

"Hello, Matthew," Phyllis replied cheerfully. "Yes, it's rather late, but I wanted to get a hold of you. We heard back from Sony just now and everything is set for you come July. I'm emailing you all the details now and you can set up all of your travel whenever you like."

"Great," he said, nodding his head. The thought of his next job filled him with a mix of excitement and fear. He was eager to get going, now that he had chosen which film he would do. However, the closer he got to July, the sooner he would be separated from Mary, and the fact she didn't have a job yet worried him.

"There's a bit of a change, though," she warned him. "Originally they were going to film in Australia, but they've received a number of government subsidies and incentives, so they're moving production to Spain. It's rather unusual so late on in the process, but the upshot is you won't be so far away now."

He blinked in surprise. "That's fantastic news, actually. I thought I'd be stuck on the other side of the world all summer."

"Well, there are much worse places to spend the summer," she joked.

"Yes, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but being in Europe is much more convenient. I'll be closer to London, and Mother, and Mary's family too," he noted.

"All right, let me know if you have any questions once you get the package. Good night, Matthew," she said cheerfully, hanging up.

He went over and sat down on the couch, smiling at these latest developments. Feeling inspired, he grabbed his laptop and decided to run lines until dinner time.

* * *

Mary blinked several times, the darkness of Matthew's bedroom greeting her. She stretched for a moment before rousing herself from bed, going into the ensuite to wash her face before she ventured out into the living room. She realized the pleasant smell of dinner was what woke her up, and she smiled at the sight of the dining room table set for two, complete with candles, and Matthew busying away in the kitchen. Music played from the Bluetooth speaker on the counter connected to his phone, and he moved about with a comfortable ease.

"Now this is a sight I could get used to," she noted, leaning against the doorway and watching him cook the stir-fry.

"I thought you didn't think my cooking was anything special?" he joked, smiling at her as he kept stirring the sizzling food.

"You've gotten much better," she said, coming into the kitchen and hugging him from behind. "You're rather overdressed for my taste, though."

He laughed and took the pan off the heat. "What would be appropriate attire, then? An apron and a thong?"

"Maybe just the apron," she teased. "Though you'd have to be careful when working with hot oil."

He chuckled and poured the food on to a serving plate. She let him go and went and poured herself a glass of red wine.

"I heard from Phyllis earlier," he said. "They're moving filming from Australia to Spain, so I'll be in Europe all summer now."

She blinked in surprise, nodding her head as she took another sip. "That's wonderful, darling! You'll be so much closer."

"That's right, and you can visit," he said, smiling at her.

"I can," she agreed. "I could be there all summer at this rate."

"Now, now, none of that," he said, coming over and kissing her pouting face before pulling her into a hug. "You haven't officially heard back on _The Muse_ yet, and there're other possibilities, I'm sure."

"I'll be doing commercials in Japan soon enough," she grumbled, leaning into him.

"That might not be so bad. I've always thought you'd look quite fetching in a kimono," he said lightly. "Come on. Let's eat."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the wine, going out to the dining table, Matthew following with the food. Just when they were sat down and he filled her plate, her phone buzzed.

"It's Aunt Rosamund," she noted, looking at the call display. "Probably a lecture on how I need to have an open mind, how I shouldn't have been so adamant in my one audition and shouldn't have gone off-script for my second."

Matthew smiled in understanding as Mary answered the call.

"Yes, hello," she said drily, reaching for her glass of wine.

"Hello, are you sitting down?" Rosamund asked.

Mary arched her eyebrow. "Yes. We're just about to eat. Why?"

"Well, I had a rather interesting conversation this afternoon with the executives at CG Cinéma. They wanted to give me some feedback on your audition from the other day," Rosamund said.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Just email me the notes. I don't want to ruin my appetite. On second thought, don't bother. I can imagine what they said already," she complained, switching to an exaggerated French accent. "Tell your client that we do not appreciate such unprofessional behaviour…"

"That's what I expected as well, however, actually, they thought you were brilliant," Rosamund said smugly.

Mary gulped down her wine to avoid choking. "Pardon?"

"They loved you," Rosamund stated. "They thought the other actresses were far too predictable and played the scene as just as written, with no flair. They said they couldn't take their eyes off of you when they saw the video, and that the director thinks you're perfect."

Mary's mouth fell open in shock. "That's unbelievable."

"Yes, I was quite taken aback myself, but then again, the French have such strange tastes sometimes," Rosamund noted. "The good news is you got the part. You're their Lily. Filming begins in Paris in the first week of July. I'll coordinate with Anna on getting you set up. For now, focus on finishing up on _Paladin_ , and I'll let your parents know you'll be in France for the summer."

"All right," Mary managed, still in utter disbelief. "Thank you. Bye."

She hung up and just stared at her phone.

"Good news?" Matthew asked.

She looked up at him, remembering that he was there. She grinned and nodded.

"I got it," she said, smiling widely. "I got the part!"

Matthew beamed, got up from his chair and went over to her. "That's brilliant, darling. Congratulations."

She laughed and hugged him. It wasn't the first part she'd ever won, but it felt like it.

"I'm so proud of you," he said, kissing her cheek and holding her close. "That'll teach those stupid Hollywood bigwigs not to underestimate Lady Mary Crawley."

She got to her feet, staying in his embrace. "Oh fuck the lot of them," she said happily. "They'll be kissing my ass again soon enough. I'm going to absolutely kill this part."

He laughed and kissed her again. "Yes, you will."

She reached her hands up and framed his smiling face, her eyes bright. She kissed him, pressing her lips to his before playing her tongue into his mouth. She stepped backwards, bringing her with him.

"Wait, what about dinner?" he asked in between kisses.

"Dinner can wait. I want to celebrate," she said thickly, reaching down and unbuttoning his jeans as she led him to the bedroom.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, May 31, 2017**

"He wants to do readings for the scenes that we aren't filming until the third week of June! I'm still dealing with next week's assignments. When am I going to have time for all of this shit?"

Anna smiled as she listened to Green's whinging over her headset. She finished loading the dishwasher, then turned the lights off in the kitchen and headed down the hall.

"It's just a list. Focus on the first item and you can deal with the rest of it as you go. It isn't as if Tony can read for two different episodes at the same time, so you've got a few days," she said easily.

"Yeah, I know, it's just so frustrating. He does this all the time when we get into the last month of a project. He gets all nitpicky and difficult. It's fucking annoying," he scoffed.

"I think everyone's going to be on edge for a while. There's no let-up. At this rate, we'll all be completely done by the wrap party," she noted.

"Or we'll all get fucking wasted," he replied. "God, I can't wait."

She laughed and shook her head, taking the stairs down to the basement. "It could get quite emotional, I imagine. It's the end of a five-year journey for a lot of us. I'm sort of glad that we've been so busy lately. Makes it easier to not dwell on how the end is near."

"Well, you lot have been posting all those photos online. That bloody hashtag is all over my accounts," he grumbled. "PaladinSeason5!"

"Be nice," she scolded him. "The network's not announced anything, but we all know this is it, don't we?"

"You've all had a great run, and it's not as if it's your fault that the network is pulling the show," he said, his tone softening. "Five years on television with great ratings and a huge following isn't easy to do. The last thing you want is to hang around for one year too many when you should have just gone out on top."

"Yeah, I guess. It just sets my teeth on edge that the decision is taken out of our hands," she agreed. She turned from the stairs and headed towards the gym. Their house was built on a slight rise, allowing them to have large windows and doors on the basement floor, and a view of the wooded park behind. Alex hated going to the gym, so he built one in the house instead.

"We never really have control, do we?" Green mused. "There's always someone else who holds the true power, who can make you do what he wants."

She reached the gym and leaned against the wall, ducking her head in to have a peek. Throbbing bass-heavy dance music was playing from the surround speakers. Her husband was sitting on the floor facing the mirrored wall, shirt off, doing crunches.

"That's true," she said, smiling as she observed her husband going through his paces.

"What are you doing with your night off, anyway?" Green asked, his voice distracting her.

"Just hanging around the house," she replied, her eyes looking at Alex's firm abs and bare arms. The gym smelled of citrus from the cleaning spray they used, and the slight hint of her husband's sweat. Normally she was rather sensitive to any odours, which was why she used her yoga room upstairs rather than the basement gym. As she kept watching him work out though, she didn't feel bothered by the scent at all. "I'll probably turn in soon."

"Good idea. I've been on my feet all day. Lying down would be amazing right now," Green groaned.

She blinked when Alex changed to reverse crunches. Lying flat on his back, arms out to his sides, he slowly lifted his legs straight up in the air and raised his hips, holding the position for a second, then dropping his legs back down.

"Lying down would feel great, yeah," she mumbled, licking her lips.

"What time are you in tomorrow?" Green asked.

"Early. 6," she answered, watching Alex continue his reps. "I'll see you tomorrow. Bye."

She hung up before Green could answer and stepped into the gym, the smells hitting her more strongly. She put her phone and headset on the small table against the wall and stepped lightly over to where Alex was lying down.

"Hey babes," she called, coming to his side.

"Hey," he grunted, lifting his legs up again.

"Have you got much longer to go?" she asked, smiling down at him.

"No, just finishing up," he said tightly, breathing quickly.

"Good workout?" she enquired, her eyes wandering from his face to his chest and stomach.

He groaned and finished his last rep, sitting up and leaning back on his hands. "Not bad."

"Are you tired?" she asked, smirking at him.

He looked up at her and smiled, his eyes moving back down to her bare legs and slowly trailed back up to her face. "Not really. Did you want to do something?"

Her pulse jumped. She stepped over him and sat down, straddling his lap. "Maybe."

His eyes fell to her chest. "I thought you didn't like it down here when I got all hot and sweaty?"

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then his neck. Arching her back, she threw her t-shirt over her head. "I hate it. It's filthy," she whispered, kissing him again.

He laughed throatily and held her close, one hand undoing her bra, the other reaching past her shorts and cupping her arse. "You're going to need a shower after this."

"So will you," she replied. She shoved him on to his back with both hands, then took her bra off. "Don't move."

He lifted his head and watched as she kissed his stomach and kneeled between his legs. Pulling his shorts off, she bent over and took him into her mouth.

"Anna!" he moaned, gasping as he watched her move on him. His eyes looked down her body and found their reflection in the mirror behind her, his arousal flaring at the sight.

Her mind was spinning thinking about what she was doing, how dirty it was. She breathed in his scent, heard his groans, felt his strong fingers in her hair, tasted him over and over. Her logical brain told her that her hormones were making her do this, making her want this, making her crave this. The thought that she was doing this while pregnant with Alex's baby only made her even more ravenous.

"Anna, oh God," he rasped, his voice sending a shiver down her spine. She was drunk with the sense of power, the feeling of surprising him, shocking him at the sight of his sweet wife being wanton and depraved.

He pulled her back up and kissed her fiercely. The two of them scrambled to remove the rest of their clothes. She laughed when he yanked his trainers off and threw them across the room. She stopped laughing when he put her on her back, the rubber floor soft and pliant beneath her. He spread her legs, giving her a devilish smile before he ravished her with his mouth and tongue. Her cries echoed off the walls, mingling with the thump of the music that was still playing, the beat matching the rhythm of their bodies.

When she came back down from her first release, he turned her over on to her front. She lifted up to her hands and knees, shuddering when he wrapped one arm around her and covered her flat belly with his hand. She was only about seven weeks pregnant, and wouldn't be showing for a while yet, but feeling his hand on her stomach, holding her, protecting their child in such an intimate moment made her heart burst and her arousal climb anew.

His other hand moved along her back and took hold of her blonde hair. He pulled back firmly, causing her to raise her head. Her eyes found them in the mirror, the image so lurid and explicit.

"Fuck me," the woman in the mirror begged. "Fuck me with your big…ooh!"

He entered her swiftly and she moaned, refusing to close her eyes as she watched him take her. They thrust against each other, hard and rough, the privacy of their home and the view in the mirror making them both louder. She told him what he was doing to her just before she fell apart. He grunted and snarled, moving even faster as he chased his release. She arched her back and took him again and again, urging him on with desperate words until he yelled out in bliss.

* * *

Alex was always a light sleeper. It was a bit due to the necessity of having to deal with clients all over the world at all hours, but from a young age he had developed an ability to sleep as efficiently as possible. He could be out the moment his head hit the pillow, awake on the first notes of Kanye West's _Stronger_ , his preferred alarm wake-up song. He aimed for eight hours of sleep, but usually only got closer to six.

Since getting married, he'd had to adjust to Anna's far more demanding sleep schedule. She tended to toss and turn more, taking far longer to shut off her brain. Early on, he had to insist on no phones or tablets in bed, otherwise she would check email or watch Netflix for hours. They had developed a pattern where they would chat until she seemed drowsy, then he would hold her close until she drifted off, giving her the odd kiss. Even before, when she wasn't home nearly as much, they would talk on the phone until she was drowsy, 'Love you' being the last words either of them said or heard before falling asleep.

With Anna now pregnant, their routine had changed. She actually fell asleep faster, the fatigue usually setting in the moment she went to bed and making their conversations far shorter. However, nausea and nature's call would wake her up at least three times a night, which in turn woke him as well. The first few times, he even went into the bathroom with her, thinking he could hold her hair back or rub her back. She quickly put a stop to that. Now, he would just doze and wait for her to come back to bed, pull her close and kiss her forehead before they slept until the next interruption.

He opened his eyes and frowned, looking at her empty side of the bed. Even half asleep, he could still gauge time well enough. Anna had been in the bathroom for longer than usual.

"Alex! Alex!" she called suddenly.

He was wide awake and on his feet in seconds, walking quickly into their ensuite. He found her sitting on the toilet, her hands clutching her stomach, her brow furrowed in concern.

"Love?" he asked, coming over to her and kneeling down to be level with her face. "You all right?"

She looked at him, her eyes wide with fear. His heart clenched when he heard her desperate whisper.

"Something's wrong."


	9. Chapter 9

**Previously:**

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, May 31, 2017**

With Anna now pregnant, their routine had changed. She actually fell asleep faster, the fatigue usually setting in the moment she went to bed and making their conversations far shorter. However, nausea and nature's call would wake her up at least three times a night, which in turn woke him as well. The first few times, he even went into the bathroom with her, thinking he could hold her hair back or rub her back. She quickly put a stop to that. Now, he would just doze and wait for her to come back to bed, pull her close and kiss her forehead before they slept until the next interruption.

He opened his eyes and frowned, looking at her empty side of the bed. Even half asleep, he could still gauge time well enough. Anna had been in the bathroom for longer than usual.

"Alex! Alex!" she called.

He was wide awake and on his feet in seconds, walking quickly into their ensuite. He found her sitting on the toilet, her hands clutching her stomach, her brow furrowed in concern.

"Love?" he asked, coming over to her and kneeling down to be level with her face. "You all right?"

She looked at him, her eyes wide with fear. His heart clenched when he heard her desperate whisper.

"Something's wrong."

 **Chapter 9:**

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, June 16, 2017**

Alex looked at his reflection in the mirror, his fingers deftly looping his silk tie into a double Windsor knot and tightening it flush to his collar. Pausing to make sure all was properly in place, he turned and took his suit jacket off the hanger, putting it on and straightening the cuffs of his dress shirt. Satisfied with his appearance, he grabbed his phone off the table and left the bedroom, walking briskly along the hall and down the stairs.

The house was usually vibrant in the morning. National news reports or the weather forecast would be on one of the televisions, and music would be playing over the speakers in the kitchen. The neighbourhood was generally quiet, but there would be the odd barking dog or birdsong that wafted inside. This morning, though, everything was silent.

He reached the kitchen and frowned. His metal travel cup was sitting on the island next to a chocolate croissant wrapped in a napkin. Going over and inspecting the items, he noticed the slow cooker was on, a batch of meatballs swimming in tomato sauce beneath the glass lid. Sighing, he took his breakfast and walked down the hall towards the garage. The croissant was finished in three bites before he slipped his feet into his dress shoes and headed out the door.

The cars were all sitting in their berths, clean and polished to a gleaming shine. He pondered which one to take for a moment, then chose the Mercedes. He didn't feel like driving the convertible today, despite the brilliant sunshine and balmy temperature. Slipping into the leather seat, he put his cup in the cup holder and pushed the engine start button. The car growled awake, and he revved the engine several times while waiting for the garage door to open fully. His eyes wandered to the empty passenger seat for a moment, his brow crinkling into a frown. Sighing and shaking his head, he put on his sunglasses and shifted the car into gear, easing it out and on to the driveway before hitting the accelerator and peeling off down the street towards his downtown office.

 **Pinewood Studios Toronto, Port Lands, Toronto, Canada, June 18, 2017**

"I scheduled the video call with Paul for tomorrow at 6. You can do it from home," Anna said, swiping her fingers across the tablet screen. "You've got two hours before you have to be back here for voiceovers at 8, which should be more than enough time. I'll bring your dinner in while you're speaking with him."

"Won't it be rather late over there?" Mary asked, taking a sip of water. She was sitting at her small desk, her tablet propped up in front of her. Looking up, she checked her reflection in the mirror, making sure her hair was still intact. She was careful not to move too suddenly or disturb the plastic bag that was serving to protect the styling for the next scene. To an outsider, she would look quite strange right now, but this was considered normal on-set.

"It was the only time he had available," Anna explained. "I get the sense that he works rather late into the evenings."

"As long as it's all right with him. I wouldn't want to annoy my director before I even get started on the movie," Mary noted.

"He said that you were perfect for the role, so I'm sure you're in decent shape with him," Anna remarked. "Rumour is that he's quite demanding, though, very stubborn, fiercely protective of his vision."

"Aren't we all?" Mary asked lightly.

Anna smiled and nodded. "I'll go and grab your lunch. I wouldn't want you to risk your hair walking to the cafeteria."

Mary laughed and found her assistant's smiling face in the mirror. "You know, Anna, this afternoon shouldn't take too long. If you wanted to head out a bit earlier and get home for dinner, I'm sure that I can manage the rest of it."

Anna blinked and lowered her gaze. "It's all right. I'm fine with staying."

Mary's eyes softened in sympathy. "Very well. See if they've got any edamame today, won't you? I've been craving some since we had sushi the other night."

Anna smiled bravely and nodded. "All right."

Mary watched her leave the trailer. She sighed sadly and shook her head.

* * *

"Hey, Anna!"

Anna stopped and looked up. Recognizing the voice, she put on a warm smile when Gwen reached her.

"Hey," Anna said cheerfully. "What's up?"

"Nothing. I was just looking at my schedule and getting more and more depressed. Do you know we're shooting at night every weekend for the rest of the month?" Gwen whinged.

"There's only one weekend left in the month, but yeah, I knew that," Anna teased.

"You know what I mean," Gwen said, shaking her head. "I've barely been out at all since May."

"I'm sure that bars across the city are suffering for it, too," Anna joked.

"Obviously," Gwen said, shrugging her shoulders. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you about your Canada Day party. It's on, right?"

Anna's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh…erm…no, actually. We…uh…we aren't doing one this year."

"Shit, really?" Gwen complained. "That sucks. Your Canada Day party is always amazing. What happened? Just too busy this year?"

"Yeah," Anna said, nodding her head. "This whole month has been crazy busy and we've got the wrap party the night before, so…"

"Right, right," Gwen said, her eyes lighting up. "Oh, we are going to get so trashed at the wrap party! It'll be absolutely epic!"

Anna smiled and nodded. "For sure!"

"Oh, but are you going to be drinking?" Gwen asked. "Is it a safe time of the month for that?"

Anna blinked and pursed her lips, her chest tightening. She smiled and nodded, taking a moment to calm herself before responding more enthusiastically. "Oh yeah, for sure. It won't be time for us to try for a few weeks after that, so it's all fine."

"Great! Okay, I've got to go do a fitting for the next scene. I'll see you later," Gwen said, smiling and heading off to the wardrobe area.

"Bye!" Anna said, smiling at Gwen before turning away. She closed her eyes for a moment and willed her tears to stand down. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and continued on to the cafeteria.

* * *

"Jade!" Tony roared, coming into her office and closing the door behind him.

"You bellowed, my love?" Mary replied sweetly, giving him a smug smirk.

"You changed the armour of the soldiers," he said tightly, coming over and throwing a piece of silk on to her desk. "To pink."

Mary waited before picking up the material and running it over her fingers. "It's actually purple, my Lord. You might confuse it with pink if you look at it from the wrong angle, but I assure you, it's purple."

"Be that as it may," he sneered. "The armour of my army is black. It always has been, and so it shall remain."

"That is true, in part. It was black. However, the laws of your people give the Emperor control of the army and the Empress the responsibility for maintenance and resupply," she noted, smiling and crossing her arms over her front.

"That is only so that the Empress can keep the supplies fully stocked and the soldiers properly outfitted when the Emperor is in the field!" he snapped. "It has nothing to do with…colour choices."

"On the contrary, husband," she said pleasantly. "As your Empress, I have complete authority over the armour and arms supplied to the army, and if I choose to provide them with purple armour, then I am within my rights to do so. There is nothing in your laws, or your code, that specifically forbids it, is there?"

He glared at her. "No. No, there isn't."

"Good, then it's settled," she declared. "You should consider yourself fortunate. I would be within my rights to take back all of your blades and guns and replace them with feathers, if I wanted to."

He grunted in frustration.

"Unless my Lord wishes to exercise his right to oppose my decision, and if so, then we are required to duel, aren't we?" she said, arching her green sparkled eyebrow at him.

He scoffed and leaned over her desk. "I see what you're playing at, Jade. I won't be so easily tricked. You swore an oath to me, and I intend to hold you to it."

She got up from her chair and leaned towards him. "And I, dearest, swore another oath, if you recall. I swore that I would see your head severed from your body and your balls cut off and fed to the pigs. Rest assured, I always keep my promises."

His nostrils flared as their eyes stayed locked on each other, neither willing to look away first.

"He worked on that for an hour, you know," Green said, leaning over and whispering to Anna. "He kept asking me if he was moving his nose too much."

Anna kept her lips sealed, stifling her laugh as she watched the scene unfold on the set in front of them. She shot Green a warning glare, then kept watching.

"Ah, so you do laugh, still," he noted, his voice low and smooth. "I was beginning to wonder, given the mood you've been in the past couple of weeks."

She blinked and bit her lower lip nervously.

"Look, Anna, I don't mean to pry, but whatever it is that's bothering you, because something obviously is, I just want you to know…" he said softly.

"Shh," she quieted him, turning and catching his concerned look. "There's nothing, but I know I can talk to you. I know."

He smirked. "Actually, that's not what I was going to say at all."

She frowned in confusion. "It's not?"

"No," he replied easily. "I imagine you have plenty of people to confide in – Mary, Gwen, whoever else. I'm a decent listener, and I'll listen if you need me to, but I'm not terribly good at the whole empathy thing. I'm just not wired to be sensitive and caring and all of that shit."

She smirked and covered her mouth to quiet her incredulous laugh.

"What I was going to say," he continued, smiling at her. "Was that whatever it is you're supposedly not going through, if you just want to forget about it, just pretend like it doesn't exist, I can help you with that. I'm pretty good at helping people forget their worries."

His words made her suddenly think of him and Rachel, the images invading her mind. She remembered the female cop's confession that Green was great at helping her lose herself, forget all the shit in her life. A flash of the sick dream that she'd had came back to her – Green fucking a woman on her bed, a woman who she thought was Rachel at first, but ended up being her, her bent over, taking all of him, screaming his name in joy.

"So, if you need a little something to help you forget for a bit, help you take a bit of a break from what's going on in your life, just let me know," he finished, smiling at her knowingly. "We can go see a movie, do one of those room escape things, even go shopping, whatever. Just have a night to forget the outside world for a bit. Say the word and I'll get you sorted."

He straightened back up and paid full attention to the scene in front of them.

She watched him for a moment, wondering what else he might be implying. He alluded before about how even though Tony forbid him from even smoking a cigarette, he could still obtain 'things' to help him get by, if necessary. She had been trying so hard lately to bury all that she had been through and all that she was feeling deep down inside, mainly by throwing herself into work. But she was still herself at work, and all that had taken place recently still followed her, haunted her. Maybe a night of distraction, a night where she wasn't herself, was what she needed, with an outsider like him, someone who had nothing to do with the hell she was going through.

She turned her head back to watch Mary and Tony, her mind dazed with confusion and questions.

"Take these small, petty victories, if you like, Jade," Tony said, his voice cold and eerily calm. "But we both know the end of the month is coming, and we both know very well what you are obliged to do for me at that time, don't we? I'm very much looking forward to it, to receiving my wife's special brand of attention."

He turned and headed for the door. Mary stood still behind her desk, fists clenched, chin raised, eyes afire.

"And cut!" the director called.

Anna applauded along with the rest of the crew. She glanced up at Green before moving away and going to attend to Mary.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 19, 2017**

"I'd like to play her as a bit of a tease, maybe far more confident than she really is, at first," Mary said, smiling politely as she explained her ideas to her director. "In the beginning, she's terribly naïve and inexperienced. She likes the attention and doesn't think anything nefarious will come of it. She doesn't flirt openly with him, but she doesn't fly off the handle, either. She thinks it's all just fun and harmless, because modelling is so new to her, and the difference in language and background between them, and all of that. She sees him as an admirer at most, nothing more."

"Yes, that fits the character," Paul agreed, nodding his head.

"In the second Act, she'll become more scared and alarmed," she continued. "I don't want her to be cowering, but she'll certainly be confused after the scene at the café, and in her facial expressions and body language, the tension will be apparent."

"Good, good," Paul noted. "Now what about the other Lily, the second one?"

She frowned. "I'm sorry, the 'other Lily'?"

He smiled and nodded. " _Marie_ , this film is about obsession, yes? There are two women in the film – the Lily of everyday, the normal one, and the Lily of his imagination, the one he is obsessed with."

She shook her head. "I'm not following."

He chuckled and shook his head. "It is okay. The script is not clear on it because it is subtle, no? Tell me, what research have you done on this?"

She composed herself and spoke crisply. "I've been looking into different relationships involving artists and their muses, or subjects – Georgia O'Keefe and Alfred Stieglitz, Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, even Marc Jacobs and Sofia Coppola. I've tried to understand what drew the artist to the muse, and the connection between them."

"Very good, very good," he approved. "And what have you drawn from all of them?"

"The intensity," she replied. "The connection seems so strong, as if a mere look at the muse can stir such powerful inspiration in the artist. It was something beyond lust or infatuation for them, going so far as to seem unhealthy in certain cases."

"But you do not believe in that, no?" he asked, smiling curiously at her over the video link. "You do not think it is possible to find a part of yourself in another person, to be moved to create because another person drives you to do it?"

"I wouldn't say that I don't believe it, obviously there's art and creations that came from these relationships, so there must be some truth to it. I just don't see how one can be so affected by a stranger at first, someone who they don't know yet. Relationships can develop over time and feelings can intensify, yes, but these artists that I looked at, they speak of being captured by the muse from the beginning, as if in some state of enchantment. That seems rather strange," she admitted.

"Exactly, exactly what I expected you to think," he said, smiling. "The muse is not the woman, it is not Lily, because he does not know her at first glance. It is the Lily in his mind. The woman he thinks that she is, that he wants her to be for him. That is the Lily you must be for parts of the movie to show how powerful the connection is, even if it is just on the one side."

She frowned, absorbing his words. "So I need to know how to perform for him in a way."

"Yes, or you need to know his impression, understand how he sees you, and feed into that fantasy, build that connection so that he no longer sees who you are, all he sees is who he wants you to be. That is the point of obsession. He is no longer admiring you. You are filling his mind," he stated.

She frowned and jotted down some notes.

"Perhaps it would help you to focus on someone who inspires others in a similar way as Lily does for Antoine," he suggested.

"And who would that be?" she asked.

"You, of course," he said lightly.

"Me?" she exclaimed, her eyes looking up from her notes in surprise.

"Yes, you, _Marie_. All of your fans, your followers, they adore you, yes? They say they love you even though they do not know who you are," he said

"Most of my fans are women, actually," she noted. "And they're all speaking about my work, not about me."

"Yes, but there are some men among the crowd," he joked. "They think you are your characters. They think they will like you because they like your characters. It is an illusion that they create in their minds and how they shift their feelings for someone who does not exist on to the real life person."

She blinked and nodded at his reasoning.

"I want you to put yourself in their position. Be them, understand what it is to want someone you do not know, what it feels like to be obsessed – to imagine a stranger and feel for them such raw emotion, yearning, passion. See Lily through Antoine's eyes, and be that woman," he advised.

"All right," she agreed. "I'll look into that."

"You do not have a boyfriend, no? This _Henri Talboot_ – you are no longer together, no?" he asked.

"No, we're definitely not together. Our relationship was not nearly as deep as some thought, besides," she said, rolling her eyes.

"It does not matter. What matters is whether you have a boyfriend, or not. Since you do not, then you are free to experiment, to see yourself as other men see you. Take notice. Pay attention when others are admiring you, watching you, desiring you. That is Antoine. He does not know anything about you beyond your name and what you look like, and from that he has created this entire woman, a woman he wants above all others. Play around it, with them, and see how they act, how you feel when they look at you. Remember that feeling," he said firmly.

She hesitated. "I don't generally do method acting in my preparations, or my performances," she said.

He smiled. "For this role, you already are, just by the nature of your position. I want you to push it a bit more, that is all."

"All right. I'll try," she said cautiously.

"Good, good. I see you in a few weeks, yes? Good night, _Marie_."

 **Gym, Athletic Centre, University of Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 21, 2017**

"Ball! Ball!" Alex shouted, glaring at his teammate and waving his hand frantically. "Ball!"

The other player passed the ball to him finally. Alex was standing with his back to the basket, a defender stood behind him, leaning on him to push him further away.

Alex dribbled several times. He shoved back against his defender, forcing the man to retreat a few steps. He did it again, and a third time, drawing closer to the basket with each collision. Finally, he lowered his shoulder and leaned into the man before turning and jumping off the floor. The extra leverage put the defender off balance and stopped him from jumping to contest the shot. Alex easily fired the basketball into the hoop from a short distance away.

"That's ten!" he shouted, walking back to the top of the arc to take the ball for the next possession. "Game point! Let's go!"

Matthew looked at him with concern. Alex had been surly since they started playing, yelling and admonishing his teammates, taunting and talking trash to the opponents, and being a bit of a douche. Their team was winning thanks to Alex's aggressive play, but it wasn't what Matthew was used to seeing from him. This was just a casual pick-up game. Everyone was competitive, but didn't get out of hand. Alex was usually light-hearted on the court, laughing and joking with everyone, keeping the mood relaxed and easy-going. He always wanted to win, but he was never angry or condescending, not until tonight's session.

Alex passed the ball off to a teammate, then clapped his hands, demanding the ball back right away. The ball came to him and he held it behind his back, turning and waving his hand at Matthew.

"Screen! Screen! Get over here!" Alex snarled.

Matthew came over and stood next to Alex's defender, setting a screen to allow him to dribble around him. Matthew's defender came over and stood close by, ready to follow Alex once he came around the screen. Alex dribbled past Matthew and stuck out his forearm to clear the defender away from him. The push sent the man tumbling down to the court as Alex dribbled past. With both defenders caught behind him, Alex penetrated into the lane near the basket, dribbled between his legs to get around another defender, then leapt to the air and dunked the ball through the basket with both hands. He roared loudly when he landed, raising his head and screaming so that everyone in the cavernous gym could hear.

"Foul!" Matthew's defender called, getting up off the floor and glaring at Alex.

"What?" Alex shouted incredulously. He came over to stand in front of the taller man, frowning up at him. "The fuck you talking about a foul?"

"Man, you shoved me when you went around the screen. That's an offensive foul."

"I didn't shove you, I shook you," Alex retorted. "Maybe if you knew how to play defence, then you wouldn't be whinging for a foul after the fact."

"You're supposed to call your own fouls," another player interjected. "Everyone knows that."

"Yeah, and that's why I didn't call anything, because I didn't foul him," Alex said, glaring at the second player. "We won the game. Get over it."

"He called a foul. That means the ball is ours and we go again."

"I can't believe you guys are pulling this just because you can't stand losing," Alex grumbled, shaking his head. "All right, let's go again. When I block the hell out of your weak ass shot, though, don't fucking say that I fouled you."

The players glanced at each other in disbelief as Alex went over to his position to play defence.

* * *

Alex frowned and looked at his phone screen, leaning against the locker room wall. He waited for Matthew to finish changing, busying himself with checking sports scores.

"So are we going to talk about what happened tonight?" Matthew asked, stowing his gym clothes in his bag.

"What do you want to talk about? The awesome dunk I had that they didn't count, or the block and three that won the game?" Alex replied, not looking up.

"How about why you were acting like such an asshole tonight?" Matthew countered, slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder and walking over to Alex.

Alex rolled his eyes and put his phone in the pocket of his shorts. "It wasn't a foul."

"Even if it wasn't, you don't usually act like such a wannabe tough guy," Matthew noted. "You're usually the one cracking jokes and telling other guys not to take it so seriously. I barely recognized you up there, talking shit and yelling at people."

Alex glared at him. "Yeah, well, I'm not in the greatest of moods these days, haven't exactly felt like myself. Sorry."

"I know," Matthew said, following him out of the locker room and down the hall. "Look, if you want to take it out on me, go ahead. Lord knows you always find things to complain about me anyway. But everyone in the gym tonight thought you were being a prick, and that's not you."

"I don't give a fuck about what any of them think of me," Alex scoffed.

"I know you don't, but that doesn't change the fact that you're not acting like yourself," Matthew noted.

Alex sighed, shaking his head as they went outside. "She doesn't want me to go to the wrap party."

Matthew blinked. "Huh?"

"The wrap party at the end of the month," Alex repeated. "She doesn't want me there. She said she just wants to have a fun night with the cast and crew, celebrate their five years together, the end of the show, all of that. She doesn't want me to come by."

"Mary told me much the same, but she still wants me to come by at the end," Matthew said.

"Yes, thank you, that helps," Alex said bitterly.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to understand," Matthew said.

"What is there to understand?" Alex demanded, frowning at him. "My wife doesn't want me to go with her to a party that I've been going to every year for the past five years. Probably the only time we would have been out together all month and she doesn't want me there. Seems pretty straightforward to me."

Matthew sighed and looked at his friend with concern. "Have you tried…"

"If you say 'have you tried talking to her about it' then you can walk your ass home," Alex interrupted him.

"Well, it is only about 20 minutes away," Matthew joked.

Alex frowned at him, not swayed in the least.

"Alex, she's not the only one hurting," Matthew continued.

"You really are clueless about women," Alex said in exasperation. "I can't compare my loss to hers, come on. I've tried to talk to her about it, but she refuses to. How can I blame her for that? To relive what she had to go through by talking about it? That's just cruel."

Matthew shook his head sadly as they reached the kerb where the Lamborghini was parked. Alex unlocked the car and lifted the hood, stowing their bags in the cargo area. The two of them got in and he gunned the engine.

"Maybe going over to Paris is exactly what you guys need," Matthew noted. "Go over there, different country, just the two of you. You can reconnect on a neutral ground, call it."

Alex sighed as he hit the pedal and blazed around a sweeping curve before heading down Spadina Avenue towards Matthew's building. "Yeah, I hope so."

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, June 21, 2017**

The first thing Alex always did when he came home from any workout was to empty his bag. He set his shoes on the rack near the garage, threw all his soiled clothes into the hamper in the laundry room next door, and left his bag to air out. His legs ached as stress caught up to him, but he still followed his routine, though it did nothing to calm him down. With a frown on his face, he trudged into the kitchen. A recovery milkshake and he would head to bed.

"Hi."

He stopped just inside the doorway and blinked in surprise. Anna was seated at the island, a bowl of pretzels in front of her.

"Hi," he answered carefully, continuing on to the fridge and looking away from her. "I didn't expect you would be home until later."

"We've got an early start tomorrow so they let us leave before midnight for once," she said, not even joking.

"Ah," he replied, grabbing his milkshake and popping the cap. He stood facing her, the island between them.

"How was your day?" she asked. "How was basketball?"

"Good," he answered. "We won."

"Good," she said tightly.

He kept sipping his milkshake, looking into the distance beyond her shoulder.

"Listen, I was thinking about the trip to France in July," she began, looking down at the pretzels. "We're going to be really busy with getting acclimated and jumping right into filming that first week. Maybe it's best if you just don't come along."

He almost choked on his drink. As it was, he gulped it down with a particularly hard swallow. "What?"

She glanced up nervously at his shocked expression. "Well, I don't know how much free time I'll have. If we're not on set, we'll be getting used to the city, finding out where everything is. It'll be terribly boring for you, plus it's so much more inconvenient for you to do work over there."

"You want to go to Paris without me?" he asked, frowning at her. "We already rented the apartment. You're fine with us being separated for months? Really?"

"It won't be months," she said, shaking her head. "We'll talk, and you'll be in London for Edith's wedding in August. It'll only be a few weeks, that's it."

"If it's just a few weeks, then I may as well come along," he noted, his tone growing more and more irritated. "I don't get why you wouldn't want me there. Even if you'll be as busy as you claim you'll be, we'll still see each other at night."

"I'll be so tired, though," she stated. "I'm afraid I won't be very good company."

He stared at her in absolute astonishment. Placing his palms on the island, he leaned forward, looking at her intently. "Anna, I…I just don't see why you wouldn't want me there. I just don't get it."

"I told you," she said curtly. "It's better if you just stay here and we'll meet up in London."

"Better for who?" he snapped, glaring at her now. "It sure as hell isn't better for me! I can't be with you from an ocean away. I can't hold you over video chat. I can't support you from another country. I can't help you if I'm not…"

"You can't help me!" she said, gritting her teeth as she set her furious eyes on him. "Don't you see? I can't have you around me right now, I just can't! I need to just focus on my work for the moment, and it's very busy with Mary starting this new movie. It's only a few weeks, I don't think it's too much to ask."

"You're asking me to leave you alone, to send you overseas alone, to not be with you. That's not too much to ask?" he demanded. "Anna, what the fuck? This whole month, all I've done is give you space, tried to not push you, or pressure you, but this is crazy. Being apart isn't going to help, you have to see that."

"Do you want to know what I see? Do you really?" she shouted, tears falling from her eyes. "I look at you and all I see is failure, my failure and shame laid bare! I hear your voice and all I think about is how I lost your baby! That's why I don't want you around me. That's why we haven't slept together, why I haven't let you touch me all month! Being around you hurts! It hurts like absolute fucking hell! It's a constant reminder of everything that I did wrong!"

She covered her mouth as her sobs made her shake.

"Love, our baby…losing our baby was horrible, but it wasn't your fault…" he said softly.

"Oh, would you just stop?" she moaned, swallowing and breathing harshly. "Don't quote me the statistics again. Don't try and make it seem like it was 'just one of those things', as if it was common and bound to happen! We didn't do anything wrong. I ate right. I got plenty of sleep. I took my vitamins. Even all the sex we had was entirely safe. I did everything that I was supposed to do and I still lost the baby! Don't you know how that makes me feel? Can't you understand how unfair and cruel that is?"

"Anna," he said sadly, moving to come around the island towards her.

"No!" she said quietly, getting up from her stool and putting her hands up to stop him. "Just…just stay where you are."

He cringed as he saw the pain and fear in her eyes.

"I think that you need to consider that this is a sign," she said quietly, looking down at the floor. "We tried. We tried for months, and it seemed like finally it worked, but in the end it didn't. Maybe we're just not meant to have children together. Maybe I'm not the one who can give you children."

"That's not true. You don't believe that," he said, shaking his head.

"Don't tell me what I do and don't believe!" she blasted him, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'm tainted for you now! I can't go through this again, it's too much, too hard! Just…just let's get through to the end of the month and I'll see you in London in August. Maybe by then…well…we'll see."

She didn't wait for him to answer, just turned and walked quickly from the kitchen and upstairs to their bedroom. He heard the door close firmly shortly afterwards. Since the first night back from the hospital, he'd been sleeping in another bedroom, at first because she was tender and wanted their bed to herself, but as the days and weeks went on, she didn't invite him back, and he didn't ask. They had been strangers for the past month, going to work separately at different times, not taking meals together, barely talking. He put up with it because he wanted to respect her right to mourn and grieve privately, but he never imagined she would want to go France without him.

He covered his face with his hand and took a deep breath. Opening his eyes, he looked around the kitchen, his mind a complete mess. Focusing in on her bowl of pretzels, he walked around the island and picked it up, hefting it in his hand. Her words came back to him, so full of hurt, and anger, and crushing anguish.

 _'Maybe we're just not meant to have children together.'_

He screamed loudly and launched the bowl at the sink, watching it shatter into pieces.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 21, 2017**

"Can I ask you something?" Mary asked, resting her head on Matthew's chest.

"After what we just did, you can ask me anything you want," he said, smiling at her.

She rolled her eyes, smiling in spite of herself. "Must every conversation with you turn to thoughts of sex?"

His smile grew even more smug. "Darling, we're lying in bed naked and you're pressed against me in the most delightful manner. I'd say if I wasn't thinking about sex at this moment, there would be cause for concern."

She scoffed and shook her head. "All right, fine. What I wanted to ask you was, have you ever been obsessed with me?"

He looked at her curiously. "This question is designed to get me in trouble, isn't it?"

"No," she said, chuckling at his suspicious glance. "Paul told me that I need to prepare for my role by delving into how people become obsessed with certain celebrities and so on, understand how people can pretend that their idols are someone they're not. I've never been obsessed with anyone, so I wanted to see what your experience was."

He laughed in amusement. "You think that I was obsessed with you, do you?"

"Well, you did follow me to another country when we weren't together," she teased. "That is rather obsessive behaviour, isn't it?"

He rolled his eyes. "I was offered the part in the chorus. They could have been performing in Chicago, New York, or wherever and that's where I would have gone. It just so happened it was here."

"So you're saying that you didn't actually care about me after we broke up?" she asked, arching her eyebrow.

"Now I know that this was all just a set-up," he grumbled. "In the beginning, I thought about you constantly, of course. I wondered about everything that I'd done wrong, everything I could have done differently. It was painful having to go over all of it."

She cringed and rubbed his chest. "I don't mean to bring this up to make you feel guilty. You aren't the only one to blame, you know."

He smiled wanly and nodded to her. "What ended up happening was I tried to distract myself, first with work, then with working out, reading, anything to occupy my time. But I didn't really think about ways to get you back. I was hopeful that we'd see each other again at some point, but I didn't try and force anything. I knew that wouldn't work with you."

She smiled. "Little did you realize that getting me back would be far easier than you imagined."

"Yes, an absolute cinch, it was," he said, chuckling and rubbing her back. "If it helps you at all, I believe I am quite obsessed with you now. I think about you all the time."

She laughed as he pulled her up and kissed her soundly. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Crawley. If I'm honest, I might just be a bit obsessed with you, too."

She ran her hands through his hair, her tongue playing with his, his arms encircling her and holding her close.

"I'll have to look into this in greater detail," she noted, kissing him again. "How does one move from admiration, to infatuation, to obsession? What happens to make one believe that someone else will change their life so profoundly, think that they need them so desperately?"

She laughed as he turned her on to her back and moved on top of her. "I can show you what you inspire me to want to do, if you like?"

"By all means," she said sultrily, spreading her legs and wrapping them across his. "I'm always up for some in-depth research."

He laughed and kissed her neck, shifting his hips teasingly against hers before drawing a delicious moan from her lips.

 **Studio One, District 28, Leslieville, Toronto, Canada, June 30, 2017**

"I just want to thank everyone, all the wonderful crew, the cast, of course, everyone who has been a part of this wonderful show for the past five years. When we shot the pilot, we were hoping to be picked up and maybe get a season or two. In our wildest dreams, we hoped to get enough time to tell all the stories from the books, and now we have, and then some, so we are all so very lucky, and so very grateful. Best wishes to each and every one of you. May you all go on to do great things, and let's all keep in touch, please. Enjoy the night!"

Everyone cheered and applauded, lifting their champagne flutes and draining them quickly. The showrunners waved and put down their microphones, the DJ starting up the dance music again and the lights turning down once more.

"Woohoo!" Mary cried, lifting her arms up and dancing to the music. Anna and Gwen laughed and danced along with her, clumsily handing over their empty champagne glasses to the servers who passed by. Since arriving, they'd done a round of vodka shots and three rounds of champagne, snacking on the hors d'oeuvres in between going back and forth to the dance floor. The event space was decorated in blacks, greens and blues, with logos and decorations from the show draped on the walls. Large video screens played behind-the-scenes videos and blooper reels on loop during the evening and even the food had a _Paladin_ theme, with desserts featuring swords and shields in icing. With this being most likely the last time that the cast and crew would be together, the network had at least spared no expense to give them a proper send-off.

Anna closed her eyes and smiled, swaying her hips to the beat of the music. She was determined to enjoy herself tonight, try and let go of all the conflicting emotions and lingering pain of all that had happened to her lately and just have fun. She couldn't remember the last time she had an evening without worries, stress, pressures clouding her mind. Tonight was going to be different. Tonight she was barely going to remember her own name, if she could help it.

Mary laughed and sang along to the song, staying close to Anna as they danced. She thought she would be sad today, the official end of her time on _Paladin_ , the show that had defined her career so far. However, she wasn't sad. She felt more relieved than anything else, having survived the harsh filming schedule and everything swirling around her to reach this point. The script had changed on her early on, and she had to learn plenty on-the-fly, but she still felt this season was some of her best work, a fitting end to five years of intense changes in her life. She wasn't necessarily where she wanted to be, compared to what she had envisioned even last year, but she was looking forward to her coming adventure in Paris filming _The Muse_ , and spending the summer in Europe.

She pulled Anna into a hug, the two of them laughing and singing together.

"Who's turn is it to buy the next round?" Mary asked, almost shouting to be heard over the music.

"Who cares? Let's just go!" Anna answered.

They both laughed and headed for the bar, taking Gwen, Catherine, and others with them.

 **JaBistro Japanese Restaurant, Downtown Toronto, Canada, June 30, 2017**

"Do you think I could borrow the Lamborghini tomorrow? I want to take Mary for a drive in the country before we fly out," Matthew asked, popping a piece of blowtorched salmon oshizushi into his mouth.

Alex frowned at him. "Hey, I'm depressed, lonely, and a bit drunk. I'm not stupid. No, you can't."

Matthew laughed and clinked sake cups with him before they downed another shot. "It was worth a try," he said, grimacing at the strong drink.

"I suppose, yeah. Catch me in a moment of weakness," Alex grumbled, picking at his wagyu beef.

"Look, I know it's bleak right now, but she'll come around," Matthew said. "Anna loves you. You'll see. By the time you come over for Edith's wedding, things will be better."

"They can't get much worse," Alex said bitterly. "And I know she loves me. That's not the problem. The problem is she doesn't love herself right now. She's always had confidence issues, but this is way, way worse. She has to pull herself out of it, cause there's nothing I can do, especially when I'm here and she's over there."

Matthew nodded and sipped his water, trying to pace himself. He wasn't due to pick up Mary from the party for a while yet, and the way Alex was going, the both of them would be completely sloshed within the hour if he wasn't careful.

"You know she's staying at Mary's tonight?" Alex asked, shaking his head in consternation. "Her last night here before flying away for the summer and she won't even come home."

Matthew frowned.

"Anyway, what's up with your place in Spain? Did Joe set it all up?" Alex asked, changing the subject.

Matthew nodded. "I've got a spot overlooking the bay right in the Old Quarter of San Sebastián. It looks gorgeous, and it's about a half hour from Zumaia, so getting to and from the set should be easy. We're starting out pretty light, so I'll have time to explore a little bit."

"Work on that tan," Alex joked.

"I think I'll have to," Matthew admitted. "My character arrives at the island pasty white, but he's rather bronzed by the time his ordeal is over."

"And how are you getting along with Rooney Mara?" Alex asked. "She's infamously shy and guarded, from what I hear."

"We've talked a couple of times, nothing personal, just work," Matthew replied. "She's really talented. I think she likes the fact that we're playing brother and sister, rather than love interests. I doubt she would have gone for the role if it involved her being rescued and having to make out on the beach. I think we'll get along well enough. We don't have to be best friends to make this work."

"No, you're not one to make friends so easily anyway," Alex said.

"Hey, I still keep in touch with Natalie and Rick," Matthew said defensively. "We'll probably see Natalie in London at some point."

"Speaking of London, is there going to be anything for Bertie at any point?" Alex asked. "I don't know if a Marquess is allowed to have a bachelor party or not."

"I think Tom mentioned he'll throw something together, who knows?" Matthew said. "Once I was fitted for my tux, all responsibilities ended. All I have to do now is show up at the church and walk down the aisle with Mary. That's it."

"You'll make quite the pair," Alex remarked.

"Yes, well the difference from your wedding is that this time we'll actually still be a couple," Matthew said, looking at him pointedly.

"Hear, hear," Alex said, pouring them both another shot of sake.

Matthew rolled his eyes and gamely took up his cup, touched it to Alex's and downed the drink.

 **Studio One, District 28, Leslieville, Toronto, Canada, June 30, 2017**

Green drank his beer as he looked out to the dance floor from his perch along the wall. All night he'd been keeping to himself, stopping to take the odd group photo with another set of drunken crew members. There was no hurry. He had all evening to carry out his plans.

Anna had shown up alone, as he expected. Her husband was nowhere to be found, and she stayed close to Mary, Gwen and the other girls. He didn't know what was going on in her life, but he suspected something was wrong. She had been in a sombre mood for much of the past month, and she was guarded and defensive at times during their daily chats. Whatever it was, there seemed to be tension in her marriage. She didn't mention her husband nearly as often or as easily as she did before, which suited him just fine.

He had managed to get more details from her about her upcoming stay in Paris. The way she was talking, it seemed that she'd be on her own, accompanying Mary to set and staying in a rented apartment. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that Europe would be a better place for him to make his move. He had patiently gained her confidence and trust over the past months, and if he tried anything tonight, at best he would get a quickie and ship her off home afterwards to avoid discovery in the morning. If he just bided his time a bit more, he could meet up with her in Paris and have her for days.

He smiled at the sight of her, laughing and dancing. She was wearing a charcoal grey dress that bared one shoulder, the skirt going down to mid-thigh. The material was shimmery, flowing with her body as she danced. Her hair was swept up, tied back with a braid like a blonde tiara, exposing her slender neck. She had definitely put extra effort into getting ready tonight. She looked glamorous and so unlike her normal staid and professional image. He loved it.

"Careful, Mr. Green. You're staring."

Green smiled at his boss as Tony came over to him.

"Just enjoying my evening," Green said. "You?"

Tony's eyes wandered over to Mary. "It's going well enough. I'll be glad to get out of here and back to London, though."

"I thought you were enjoying your time here, working with Lady Mary and all," Green said.

"It was good fun, yes," Tony acknowledged, smiling as he recalled filming a love scene with Mary last week. "However I believe that we've accomplished what we came here to do, so we can go back home satisfied."

"I agree," Green said, looking at Anna once more. "There's been great progress made on all fronts."

"Just be discrete," Tony said quietly. "We're very close to getting what we want. The last thing we need is for you to cock things up by chasing after another stupid little blonde."

"Yes, sir," Green replied, keeping his eyes on Anna.

* * *

"I'm going to head out," Tony said, leaning over to speak into Mary's ear as his hand went around her waist.

"So soon? You haven't even asked me to dance yet," Mary noted, arching her eyebrow at him.

He smiled sheepishly. "I'm afraid I'm not very good at dancing to this type of music. Otherwise, I would have asked you long ago, believe me."

"Ah, you're more of a waltz and foxtrot type of man, are you?" she teased.

"Actually, I prefer the tango and paso doble," he retorted, looking at her intently. "Dances that actually involve skill."

"Now that sounds like a challenge," she said, laughing merrily. "By boasting about your abilities and set the bar rather high for yourself. I'll expect you to be quite good."

"You'll just have to see if I measure up, sometime," he said. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, Mary. Have a safe flight to France."

"I'll let you know when I'm in London," she said, kissing his cheek and smiling at him. "Goodnight, Tony."

He took his leave and headed for the door. She watched him go, contemplating just how much he'd changed from the young man she knew back in England. If any man could be said to be obsessed with her, it was Tony back then, back when she was with Matthew but he wasn't deterred. She never contemplated that she might inspire anything in him though. She always assumed he just wanted to be with her because she fit the idea of the woman he thought he should be with. Now, years later, she still suspected that he was attracted to her, despite Mabel being in the picture, but she didn't think anything of it. She wondered idly if she should try and put herself in Tony's shoes, see herself from his perspective, try and decipher what about her he found so fascinating. Understanding him more might help her with her upcoming role. Was playing the type of woman that Tony wanted similar to how Antoine saw Lily?

Her thoughts of Tony and the movie were soon cast aside as she saw a tall man with blond hair and blue eyes making his way towards her.

* * *

Anna giggled as she walked down the narrow hallway, holding Gwen's hand and following her towards the back of the building.

"Where are we going? You said we were going to take a photo!" Anna said, laughing as she almost tripped over some boxes of empty wine bottles.

"Just come on!" Gwen said, dragging her along. They turned the corner and emerged on to the private loading dock in the back, the large garage door opened, letting in the warm air of the late summer evening.

"Isn't this cosy?" Anna joked, seeing Tommy, Green and some other crew members gathered around drinking and smoking.

"Welcome to the true party, ladies," Tommy said, bowing his head and sweeping his hand grandiosely across the parking lot. "Best view that money can buy."

"Well you can still see the CN Tower well enough," Green noted.

Anna laughed, nodding at the tall landmark well in the distance, the only clear building downtown that they could make out against the night sky.

"How are you?" Green asked, smiling and holding out a beer to her.

She hesitated for a second, then came to his side, accepting the offered beer and clinking bottles with him before taking a drink.

"A toast, lads, and ladies," Green announced, holding up his beer. "To the _Paladin_ crew. Five glorious years and in the end you got a bloody t-shirt."

They all laughed and cheered, clinking bottles and taking long pulls. When they all arrived at the venue tonight, they were handed black t-shirts to wear for a huge group photo. Everyone had thrown them off the instant the shot was taken.

"We had a good run, yeah? A fucking good run," Tommy said, taking a marijuana joint out of his pocket and lighting it. He took a long drag, then passed it on.

Anna looked over at the lit joint, the scent of the drug sailing over to her. She took another drink of beer, watching as the joint got passed along and drew ever closer.

"You having a good night?" Green asked, smiling down at her.

She nodded and watched as he took the joint, brought it to his lips and inhaled. Holding the smoke in his mouth for a moment, he tilted his head back and exhaled a long plume of blue-tinted smoke into the air. She blinked when he turned and smiled at her, handing her the joint.

"I won't tell if you don't," he said quietly, his eyes bright, his smile playful.

She took the joint from him and looked at it for a moment. Everyone else continued on with their conversations, only Green watching her. She could smell the marijuana already in the air around her, feeling it wrap its tendrils around her brain. Looking away, she brought the joint to her mouth and smoked it, passing it on to Gwen quickly. She felt the heat fill her lungs, the familiar burn in her chest before she exhaled. Someone began telling a story about some hilarious mishap on the set from a previous season, and she laughed along with everyone, drinking her beer and adding to the story where she could. The joint came around the circle again and Green took a long drag and passed it to her, the pull going much easier the second time around. She felt his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him, smiling as she felt herself beginning to float, the buzz from the high and the drinks she'd had over the night taking hold of her. The stories continued and someone took out their phone and started taking photos. She smiled and laughed and revelled in the warmth flowing through her, Green's arm wrapped around her possessively all the while.

* * *

Mary laughed and touched Matthew's arm, smiling at him. They were off in a dark corner, leaning against a high-top table, having long left the dance floor. The music was still pumping and the party was still in full swing as the clock approached midnight, but they were happy to just be off to the side, spending time together.

"We promised we wouldn't take sides, you know," she reminded him, arching her eyebrow.

"Well, we have taken sides, haven't we?" he replied. "They're both suffering, darling. We have to do something."

"If we do something, it might make things worse," she said. "I know that Alex is hurting, and I hate that he is, but I've tried to talk to Anna about it and she hasn't really opened up. I don't blame her. I would probably hate to talk about it if I was in her position. I'd just want to forget the entire thing even happened. So, I just leave her be. She'll come to me if she needs me, that's all I can do."

He nodded resignedly, taking a sip of his drink.

"We can't save everyone, you know," she teased. "They need to work things out for themselves. You have far more pressing matters to attend to."

"Such as?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Such as the fact that this is our last night together for quite a while," she replied, arching her eyebrow at him. "I would think you would want to make it a memorable one."

"I do, indeed. That's why I can't wait to leave this lovely party so I can have you all to myself," he said pointedly.

She laughed and shook her head. "Is that all you have in store for me, then? Back to yours to be ravished into the early morning hours?"

"A bit of credit, please," he said. "There's more to me than just the best sex you've ever had in your life."

Her eyes went wide and she laughed incredulously at his cheeky reply. Arching her eyebrow and nodding her head, she leaned towards him to whisper in his ear.

"You've raised my expectations for tonight quite substantially now, you know. Not only will I expect amazing sex, but more besides," she said.

His breath was warm on her cheek, his voice deep and smooth in her ear. "Go on and fantasize about it, darling. You won't even come close to what's in store for you later, I assure you. I'm going to go and get you another drink. I think you'll need it."

Her pulse jumped and a shot of arousal coursed through her as she drew back and looked at his predatory smile. She finished the rest of her vodka and tonic as she watched him head over to the bar.

* * *

Anna grinned, looking up at the swirling coloured lights above as she danced, swaying back and forth to the music. She felt giddy and free, almost hovering above the floor. Laughter seemed to bubble in her chest, ready to fly out at any moment. She was so glad she had chosen this dress to wear tonight. It felt so soft on her skin, luxurious, like velvet, but not. This was what she needed – to let go of everything weighing her down and just live in the moment.

She felt large hands slide down to her hips and she giggled, looking up over her shoulder at Green's smiling face and shaking her ass a bit. She bit her finger, smiling at him before she stepped away and turned around to face him. He came forward and took hold of her again. She laughed and swatted his chest, then raised up to yell in his ear.

"Where's Rachel?" she asked, her eyes bright.

"She's working tonight, I think," he replied, smirking down at her, before leaning over again so she could talk.

"Does that mean you're not having a goodbye-fuck?" she asked, laughing madly as though she had just told the funniest joke in the world.

"We already did, earlier this week," he replied, his face awash with arrogant boldness. "It was nice while it lasted."

"So who's filling the void tonight?" she asked, laughing again.

"Haven't decided yet," he said easily. "Plenty of possibilities, so I need to be more discerning, or I suppose I could just take them all back to mine."

"You're so full of shit," she said, grinning at his stunned expression. "You expect me to believe you're that good, that you have all these women begging you for it?"

"Their words, not mine," he replied, leering down at her. "I guess you'll never find out, since you're married."

She frowned. "So? Rachel's married."

He grinned. "I guess you're right."

She smiled smugly at him, then put her arms up and kept dancing. He reached his hand out and placed it on her hip, pulling her closer a bit at a time.

"Mr. Green, I'm surprised you're still here."

Green let go of Anna and turned in surprise, realizing who had called him out.

"Tony left a while ago. I would have expected you to go with him," Mary noted, waiting for his answer.

"It's our last night here," Green explained with a smile and a shrug. "He let me off the leash for the rest of the night."

"Ah, I see. Well, do enjoy yourself, then. Anna, we're going," Mary called, reaching over and taking Anna's arm. Anna laughed and waved goodbye to Green as she followed Mary off the dance floor.

Green watched them go, raging at the sudden turn of events. He thought he had gotten her away from Mary and Gwen well enough. Shaking his head, he turned and left the dance floor himself, taking out his phone to see who he could hire to help make the night turn out in his favour.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Downtown Toronto, Canada, July 1, 2017**

"Mary!" Matthew protested, awkwardly kicking off his shoes as he stepped backwards into the foyer. Mary's lips were locked on his, her hands throwing his suit jacket down to the floor and getting to work on his shirt buttons. "Just…hang on…just a second!" he pleaded.

She laughed wickedly, not stopping at all. "I'm only following your lead, darling. I'm eager to have the best sex I've ever had in my life."

He laughed nervously. "You will, you will, just wait. I promised you I had more planned for you than that."

She laughed and released him, removing her heels and letting him take her hand to escort her into the living room. They sat down on the couch and he reached for his laptop, grinning as she sat up on her knees and put her arms around him, kissing and licking his neck.

"If you could just focus for a second," he rasped, closing his eyes for a moment and enjoying her attentions. "I have something for you, a few things, actually."

"All right, let's see what you've got," she said, laughing at her innuendo as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"And you say I'm the ravenous one," he joked, smirking at her. He brought up a web browser so she could see.

"This is a flight pass for Iberia Airlines, containing numerous flight credits between Paris and San Sebastián, stopping over in Madrid," he explained, pointing at the screen. "Whenever you want to come visit, all you need to do is go to Paris-Orly and book your flight. It's all taken care of in advance so you literally just need to get your boarding pass and go. And it's in Business Class of course, so you need not mix with the unwashed masses."

She laughed and kissed him tenderly. "Oh, darling, that's perfect! Thank you so much. I don't know how much time I'll have to come down, but this makes it so easy."

"I should hope that you can spare a weekend at some point over the summer," he said.

"I will," she agreed.

"Good, because you can figure out what we can do by reading these travel guides," he said, switching browser windows and showing her an online cart of travel books on the Basque Country that he'd purchased for her. "Once you're settled, they'll be shipped to your place in Paris."

"Perfect. I'll just have Anna read them and show me the best bits," she said, laughing when he gave her a wry frown. "Next?"

"What makes you think there's anything else?" he questioned.

"There's always something else when it comes to you," she said, kissing him playfully.

"Well, I may have bought you a bikini or two, since I will be living right on the water, and San Sebastián is known for its glorious beaches," he explained, opening another browser window and showing her three different swimsuits.

She rolled her eyes. "Each one of them skimpier than the next. I may as well just go topless," she muttered.

"Well, Playa la Zurriola does permit nude sunbathing, apparently," he noted.

She smacked him on the chest. "Why don't we just record a sex tape and send it to The Daily Mail? It would be easier."

He laughed and closed his laptop. "All right, all right, now one last thing."

"This had better be good," she warned him.

He laughed and reached over to the small table next to the sofa and took out a small blue bag tucked underneath.

"Oh, Matthew," she exclaimed, blinking as he handed it to her.

"Happy Anniversary, darling," he said, putting his arm around her. "Thank you for giving me another chance last year. It's been easily the best year of my life."

She covered her mouth as a few stray tears escaped from her eyes. Reaching over, she turned his face towards her and kissed him deeply.

"Thank you for not giving up on me, and I don't mean just this past year," she whispered, grinning at him.

He held her as she opened the Tiffany bag and took out the iconic blue box within. Pulling the white ribbon loose, she opened the box and removed the pouch inside.

"Oh my God, Matthew," she breathed, staring at the white gold cuff bracelet with diamonds arranged in an infinity loop around the centre.

"I thought of you when I saw it," he said, kissing her neck lightly as he helped her slide it on her thin wrist. "Elegant, but modern."

"I see some symbolism here," she noted, smiling as she held her arm up and looked at the diamonds shining in the light of the room. "Putting a cuff on me, staking your claim, are you?"

He blinked. "No, no, not at all, I…"

"Matthew…" she interrupted him, kissing him again. "I love it. Thank you."

He smiled in relief.

"Now, would you like your present?" she asked, reaching for her clutch.

He blinked in surprise. "You got me something?"

She frowned at him in disbelief. "Are you saying you thought I would forget our anniversary?"

"N-no!" he recovered. "I just didn't know if you would make a big deal out of it, or…erm…I'm just surprised. You didn't have to get me anything."

"I most certainly did," she said, laughing as she took out her phone and swiped her finger across the screen several times. "Here."

He took her phone from her, a curious frown on his face. Looking at the screen, his eyes widened and he looked at her, his mouth agape.

"You'll need to get around San Sebastián somehow," she noted. "And I am told that the Basque Country has some outstanding roads."

He stared at the photo of the brand new road bike that Mary had bought for him. "This is incredible," he muttered.

"I stole a peek at the measurements on your current bike," she said. "This one's waiting in Madrid. You just need to call them and they'll ship it up once you've arrived."

"Thank you, darling, that's so thoughtful," he said, taking her in his arms and kissing her. "Maybe we can ride together when you come visit, or I can even bring this one with me up to Paris?"

"I don't know if I'm up to trying to keep up with you," she joked. "But yes, we need to figure out our schedules soon because I am not going all of July without you if it can be helped."

He laughed and kissed her again. "Nor I, you."

"So, about that amazing sex part of the evening," she teased, sliding across to straddle his lap. "What about it?"

"Why not?" he said, grinning as his hands cupped her bottom and he lifted her off the sofa. She laughed and kissed him, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bedroom.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, July 1, 2017**

She was walking down the same hallway, somehow already aware of the destination. The sounds were growing louder, familiar, but different. She looked down at her bare feet, then up at the glowing light ahead, stepping into it and arriving in her bedroom once more.

Green was kneeling on the bed again, his muscles rippling as he pulled her back against him, drawing a cry from her with every thrust. She knew it wasn't Rachel this time. She knew exactly who was moaning and panting, taking all of him again and again.

As she came around and stared into her own delirious face, the scene seemed to shift, and instead of standing off to the side and witnessing what was happening, she was now in bed, sitting atop him, her hands on his chest, his on her arse, guiding her as she rode him.

Her eyes went wide in shock, her mouth falling open, desperate sounds spilling from her lips. It all felt so real. His warm skin below her fingers, his strong grip on her body, his leering eyes boring into hers.

"Say it, Anna," he snarled, and his voice was raspy and different, reverberating with an evil echo, a sinister tone. "Tell me what I want to hear. Tell me!"

Her mind seemed to be blank, no thought other than the intense pleasure he was giving her allowed to enter. She stared down at his eyes, fiery and unblinking. She couldn't look away or stop herself from moving her hips faster, giving in to the rapture that he used to take control.

"Fuck me!" she screamed.

With a startled gasp, she woke up, her heartbeat racing. She was hungry, and thirsty, and her head hurt. She reached over and grabbed her phone off the nightstand. 4 a.m. Mary and Matthew had brought her back here at just past 1, and she had collapsed into bed in short order. She was still drunk, and high, though she felt a little bit closer to normal than before at the party. Her head began to spin and she groaned, lying back down and turning on to her side.

The dream had been so vivid, as though she was somehow lucid during it. She could see it so clearly, even though she tried not to. It had to be a stupid coincidence that she thought about him in that way again. Something about being back in Mary's guest bedroom after having gone out and partying again triggered her subconscious to recall that last time she was in this same situation. That had to be it.

She cringed and shut her eyes, hoping the darkness behind her eyelids wouldn't morph into something else. Opening one eye, she grabbed her phone again and before she could think better of it, dialled his number and brought the phone to her ear. The call rang three times, and she was afraid she would end up with his voicemail. She didn't want that, for some reason. She wanted to talk to him.

"Hello? Anna?" Alex said, his voice heavy from sleep. "You all right?"

"H…hi," she whispered, sniffling as she felt the tears come. "I'm sorry to wake you."

"It's okay," he mumbled. "You're at Mary's?"

"Yeah," she said. "I'm all right…I just needed to talk to you."

"I'm here," he said, swallowing several times to clear his throat. "How was the party?"

She shut her eyes, trying to forget all about it. "It was fine. It was good, yeah. A lot of shenanigans. I'm really going to miss this lot."

"Well, you've been through a lot with them. Maybe you'll get to work with them again someday," he said, his voice lazy but lucid.

She paused, wiping her eyes. "Alex, I…I'm so sorry…"

"Hey, it's okay," he replied. "You…you've just got a lot to work out, that's all. I get it. I don't like it, and I don't agree with the way you're going about it, but I get it."

"I love you so much," she choked out, fresh tears pouring forth and staining the pillow. "I know it must not seem like it because I've treated you so badly, and been a total bitch, and a horrible wife, but I love you. I've never loved anyone like I love you. I just…that's why this is all so bloody hard. I wish I didn't feel like I do. I wish you could just fix it, I wish you could just fix me, but I don't know how to…"

"I love you," he said firmly, making her sob. "I love you, Anna May Smith-Lewis, do you hear me? I love you. Whatever you need from me, you've got it. I'll give you space. I'll give you time. You can call me whenever you want, about anything, even just to say hi, whatever. Just…go over there, work hard, have a great time, do what you need to do and I'll see you in London for the wedding, just like you said. It'll be fun, right? You love weddings."

"Yeah, yeah I do," she agreed, rubbing her eyes. "A Crawley family wedding in London. It'll be great."

"Love, can you do something for me?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'll try, I…yeah…" she said.

"Are you in bed?" he asked.

"Yeah," she answered.

"Just lie down. Lie down and close your eyes," he said soothingly.

She swallowed and turned her head into the pillow, closing her eyes.

"All right," she said.

"I love you. Have a safe flight and let me know when you land," he said.

"I will," she answered. "I love you too."

She sobbed again when she heard the piano and drums playing through her phone. Her hand covered her mouth, the lyrics easily coming to her mind before she heard them.

 _'I can hear her heartbeat from a thousand miles, hear the Heavens open every time she smiles, and when I come to her, that's where I belong, and I run into her like a river strong…'_

The darkness became the Lancaster Ballroom at The Savoy Hotel in London, all the lights dimmed except for a single spotlight on the dancefloor, bathing her and Alex as they took their first dance as husband and wife.

 _'She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love. She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love…'_

 _Crazy Love_ was their wedding dance. She always loved the 1970 Van Morrison song. He knew it from the R&B cover by Brian McKnight. Both of them assumed that their version was the only one, leading to a rather heated argument that was as passionate as it was silly. They often played both versions in the car.

She let the tears flow, listening to their song as it lulled her back to sleep.

* * *

 **Song Credit:**

 **Crazy Love –** Brian McKnight, (1995), Mercury Records


	10. Chapter 10

**Previously:**

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Trump Residences Toronto, Downtown Toronto, Canada, July 1, 2017**

"Just lie down. Lie down and close your eyes," he said soothingly.

She swallowed and turned her head into the pillow, closing her eyes.

"All right," she said.

"I love you. Have a safe flight and let me know when you land," he said.

"I will," she answered. "I love you too."

She sobbed again when she heard the piano and drums playing through her phone, covering her mouth, the lyrics coming to her mind before they were sung.

 _'I can hear her heartbeat from a thousand miles, hear the Heavens open every time she smiles, and when I come to her, that's where I belong, and I run into her like a river strong…'_

The darkness became the Lancaster Ballroom at The Savoy Hotel in London, all the lights dimmed except for a single spotlight on the dancefloor, bathing her and Alex as they took their first dance as husband and wife.

 _'She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love. She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love…'_

 _Crazy Love_ was their wedding dance. She always loved the 1970 Van Morrison song. He knew it from the R&B cover by Brian McKnight. Both of them assumed that their version was the only one, leading to a rather heated argument that was as passionate as it was silly. They often played both versions in the car.

She let the tears flow, listening to their song as it lulled her back to sleep.

 **Chapter 10:**

 **San Sebastián Airport, Hondarriba, Basque Country, Spain, July 2, 2017**

Matthew stood patiently in the baggage claim area, watching as various pieces of luggage in different sizes, shapes, and colours came sliding down the conveyer belt to join the slow crawl around the winding metal carousel. It was almost 9 p.m., and he'd been traveling for almost 24 straight hours. It was still light outside, sunset being not for another hour, but he was essentially worn out. He kept his sunglasses on, his earphones securely fastened, listening to his Mozart playlist for the tenth time today.

The overnight flight from Toronto to Paris was spent in the luxurious business class of an Air Canada Boeing 777, with the lovely seats that reclined all the way back. He was literally ensconced in his own pod, making it difficult for him to see Mary lounging across the aisle, let alone maintain a conversation with her. That was probably better, anyway. He needed to spend the flight getting some actual rest after spending the entire day with her.

They slept in on Canada Day morning following the _Paladin_ wrap party from the night before. He made a light breakfast – poached eggs and toasted English muffins – which she ate quickly before luring him straight back to bed. They both had the foresight to pack their luggage earlier in the week, or more accurately, he'd packed his luggage in advance and she'd instructed Anna to take care of hers. As a result, they were already set for the evening departure and had the entire day to themselves.

Knowing that they would be separated and living in different countries for the summer, they spent the day having sex, pausing to eat and recover every few hours, then having more sex. It was the kind of decadent behaviour that he never expected from Mary, a day of constant shagging that he had only fantasized about but never dared to suggest. He was perfectly happy with making love to her the night before and having a normal Saturday of relaxing, going for a walk, maybe having lunch on a sun drenched patio before heading off to the airport. She wasn't having any of that. They fucked in every room of his apartment, some more than once, and in a plethora of positions that he wasn't quite sure how they managed. He half expected to receive a noise complaint from the concierge, but thankfully the usual bustle of the downtown streets below helped mask their sordid symphony.

Before the plane left the gate in Toronto, he lifted his head and looked over the edge of his pod across the aisle to hers, catching her stretching her arms. She glanced his way and caught him watching her, arching her eyebrow and rolling her eyes at his stupid grin. He knew it was blatantly obvious what he was thinking about, but he didn't care, winking at her teasingly before they both sat back and prepared for take-off. As usual, she had to have the last word, and as soon as they were airborne, she used the plane's WiFi network to send him several lurid texts, inviting him to meet her in the loo, even sending him a cheeky photo of her licking her lips. He chickened out and fell asleep somewhere over Quebec. Joining the Mile High Club with her was severely tempting, but he didn't want to cause her another scandal, and really, he knew she was joking all along. If they were on a private charter, that was one thing, but flying commercial required a certain level of discretion and restraint.

Now, standing here in Spain by himself, he wished he had taken her up on her offer. The glorious memories from the past few days were a comfort, but they only made him long for her more ardently. Upon landing in Paris, she stayed at the airport with him, hanging out in the Air France La Premiere lounge and delaying their inevitable parting. They spent an hour nibbling on the food and talking about anything that came to mind, holding on to each other's company for a little while longer. Eventually he had to catch his connection to Madrid, and she and Anna had to head into the city to get settled. They found a secluded corner for one last kiss, and she was gone.

The flight to Madrid was fine. The small, twin-propeller plane to San Sebastián a bit less so, and now he stood on the brink of a new adventure, alone in a foreign land. Tomorrow he would get excited. Tonight, he just wanted to get to his rented apartment and go to sleep.

"Buenas tardes, Señor Crawley. Welcome to San Sebastián."

It took him a second to register the voice. He blinked and turned around, removing his sunglasses in surprise.

"Lavinia!" he exclaimed, taking in the smiling, petite, ginger-haired woman standing before him. "Hi!"

"Hello, Matthew," she replied, laughing and giving him a hug and a kiss to his cheek.

"What are you doing here? I didn't know you were working on this film," he said, stepping back from her.

"It's been on my list for a while. When I saw you won the lead, I was absolutely chuffed, of course, but I thought I'd just wait and surprise you," she said cheerfully.

"That's great," he said, nodding his head. "At least I'll know someone here now."

She nodded. "The driver is waiting outside. Once we've got your luggage, we can go."

He nodded and glanced over at the carousel. Still nothing.

"And how is Dave doing?" he asked, inquiring about her husband to pass the time.

"Well, thank you," she replied. "He might come down at some point, though he's quite busy. Thank you again for the wedding present. It was so thoughtful of you."

"I'll confess now that my mother picked it out, actually," he admitted. "But I'm happy to take credit for it."

She laughed and touched his shoulder. "I was rather suspicious, but it was lovely. I just wish you could have made it over to join us."

"Right, yeah, me too," he said kindly. Lavinia had gotten married in May in Liverpool, and Matthew sent along his regrets early on. Though he wasn't working, he wasn't going to fly to England and be away from Mary for a weekend just to go to Lavinia's wedding. He originally planned to just send a card, but Mother convinced him that he should do something more thoughtful, given how helpful Lavinia had been during _Shattered_. She and Cora found a wonderful vintage flower vase and had Lavinia and her husband's initials and wedding date inscribed in it. Matthew thought it was a bit of a tacky gift, but he didn't complain. He was glad Lavinia liked it.

His luggage eventually came down, much to his relief. He grabbed the two large suitcases and brought them out to the car. The ride to his apartment was short, though Lavinia directed the driver to take the scenic route, traveling along a highway through green hills and country fields before heading through the suburban outskirts and down to the water, winding along narrow cobbled roads into the Old Quarter.

"They call it the Old Quarter, but it's actually only about two centuries old," she noted. "It meets all the pre-requisites, though – old churches, public square, maze of small streets better meant for pedestrians than autos. It's actually quite nice, and just gorgeous now in the summer time."

He nodded, looking out the window and taking in the old buildings surrounding them, with their iron balconies above and shops and tapas bars on street level. When the car arrived at his apartment building, she handed him his packet, including his keys, map, guide to local spots, information on the area and the first week's call sheets for filming at the beach location about twenty minutes up the coast.

"There's a really lovely restaurant just down the street, actually," she continued. "A bit better than the typical pintxos dives. Fancy a bite after you freshen up?"

He turned and looked at her, smiling politely. "Thanks, but I think I'm just going to turn in. I'm worn out. You'll need to give me a tour tomorrow though, otherwise I might get lost and not make it to set for Tuesday," he said.

She smiled. "Don't worry. We'll make a local out of you yet. Besides, we're shooting on the beach, so just head to the water, keep going west, and you can't miss it."

He laughed and thanked her before saying goodbye and getting out of the car. The driver helped him bring his luggage up, then left with a polite tip of his cap.

The apartment was smaller than his place in Toronto but featured an immense terrace with a spectacular view of the Bay of Biscay and neighbouring Mount Urgull. He smiled, contemplating having a go at the twisting roads up to the summit on his brand new bike once it was delivered here. Thinking of the bike made him think of Mary, and as he watched the sun set over the vast, blue water, he took out his phone and called her. Thankfully, Paris and San Sebastián were in the same time zone, meaning he didn't have to worry that their schedules would conflict any more than usual.

"Hello, darling," she said warmly. "You've arrived, have you?"

"I have," he confirmed, looking out across the water at the boats moored in the harbour. "It's quite nice here, being so close to the beach and the water, a bit of a change from Toronto."

"I can imagine," she replied. "It rained here after your flight took off. A bit of a metaphor, don't you think?"

He chuckled at that, leaning on the railing. "I suppose you consoled yourself with a shopping trip to Avenue Montaigne?"

"You suppose right," she teased. "Chanel and Hermès were very happy to see me."

He laughed and shook his head. "How's Anna?"

She sighed. "All right. Her apartment is just down the street. I deliberately booked mine a few buildings over because I wanted to give her and Alex some privacy, but now…"

"I know," he said tightly. "Well, let's hope that all is well by the wedding next month."

"Speaking of which, I'm doing a conference call with Sybil and Edith tomorrow," she complained. "Likely so that Edith can give us yet more additions to our respective task lists."

He smiled. "Well, that does form part of your duties as the maid-of-honour, doesn't it?"

He could almost see her rolling her eyes from the tone of her voice. "I suppose so. If Sybil wasn't pregnant, I'm sure Edith would have asked her instead. Anyway, all that's left is the menu tasting, the hen night and the rehearsal, so God help us if we can't get through those with minimal fuss."

"That reminds me. I should ask Tom what's going on for Bertie. If we're making more than one trip to London, I'll need to know rather soon," he said.

"Oh, I think all of that will be done the week of, darling," she said. "There's no point flying up there for a night, then having to turn around and go back straight away. Sybil would be incensed."

"That would be helpful," he agreed. "Connecting through Madrid was fine, but it has been a very long day."

"I'll say. What are you doing now?" she asked.

"Missing you," he replied softly, looking out to the setting sun.

"Mmm, you are rather honey-tongued, aren't you?" she drawled.

"You would be the one to know," he flirted.

She laughed. "You know, we had best get back to our witty repartee and trading clever barbs, otherwise it'll get out that we're just as sappy as any other couple."

"We can spar tomorrow. Today I still get to miss you," he said.

"You had plenty of me these past few days," she said lightly. "Didn't you get your fill?"

"Not even close," he said thickly. "Shall I tell you what we would be doing if you were here on this terrace with me?"

"Get your WiFi set up so you can show me what you mean," she challenged.

"It'll be up tomorrow, I am assured," he said quickly, the thought of doing a video chat with Mary before they went to sleep jolting him from his drowsiness momentarily.

"It had better be," she said. "All right, go to bed. Anna and I are going grocery shopping and other such excitement tomorrow, but you can call me in the evening."

"Goodnight. I love you, Mary," he said.

"I love you too," she said warmly. "Dream about me, won't you?"

"I always do," he said. "Bye."

 **Église Saint-Étienne-du-Mont, Quartier Latin, Paris, France, July 10, 2017**

"I want you to model for me."

Mary looked up in surprise, frowned for a second, then lowered her gaze back down to the street as they kept walking. "Me? Why? I'm not a model."

Vincent laughed. "Oui, mais c'est parfait. You are an _ingénue_ – untouched, unspoiled. I want my students to have a fresh face to work with. It will be easy for you, and the school pays very well."

She nodded her head slowly, as if contemplating the idea.

"Come to tomorrow's class," he pushed gently. "You can see how we work, and if you are comfortable, you can then model for the next week's class."

She sat down on the steps, taking a bite of her croissant and thinking as she chewed. "And if I still say no?"

He chuckled and remained standing, looking down on her with a smile. "I promised your uncle that I would introduce you to my friend the music producer, and I will. This is just an idée, something to fill your time, that's all. Take it, or not, is okay."

A camera was wheeled forward to shoot down on Mary as though she was looking up at Vincent towering above her.

"Well, all right," she said, shrugging. "One class and I'll see."

The camera retreated so that another could zoom in on him as though he was looking down on her, the sun casting a glow from behind his head.

"Wonderful, Lily," Vincent exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Wonderful."

* * *

Anna watched from off-set, not able to hear Mary speaking as easily as if she were at an indoor studio. Filming outside on-location was always a fun change-of-pace, particularly on a lovely, sunny summer day in Paris. They were using this area because it was near several schools, which fit Vincent's character, Antoine, an art instructor, and moreover for the steps behind the church that faced a narrow, cobbled street surrounded by ancient buildings. The setting was very French, very Paris, and had been used in other films before. Looking around, Anna still couldn't quite believe that they were here.

The first week had flown by. They were scheduled to shoot indoors at a studio later in the month, so Anna wanted to savour the outdoor sessions as much as possible. She took countless photos on her way to set each day. Even buildings and churches that weren't particularly famous or noteworthy looked incredible and seemed to have sprung from classic novels to her. Mary had been to France numerous times ever since she was little, but this was her first time, and she was quite impressed. There were only two problems.

The first was her French. She thought it was passable before she arrived. Though not nearly as good as Mary's, she could understand well enough and figured she could manage. When it came to actually speaking to real Parisians though, she learned quite quickly on their first day here that she wasn't nearly as fluent as she thought. She was met with confused stares and strange glances when she tried to talk to some of the store clerks in the boutiques they visited, and trying again at the markets hadn't gone any better. Even when she did manage to string together proper phrases, her terrible grammar and pronunciation led many to smirk in amusement before either replying in English, or shaking their heads. She could get by at the major tourist attractions and department stores without a problem, but the main part of her job required her to deal with all sorts of people so that Mary didn't have to. Not being able to speak the language was a problem for her professional life.

The second problem was more personal.

"Hey! So, great news! I spoke to the manager at the bakery that Mary loves and he's agreed to make a special delivery each morning. Pain au chocolat, macarons, and petite madeleines will be dropped off at yours. You can bring them over to hers so she doesn't have to wake up too early."

Anna's face lit up as she turned and smiled gratefully at the woman who came up to her. Edna Braithwaite was the Third Assistant Director on the film, and had met Anna on the first day of shooting. She was one of the few crew members who wasn't French, born and raised in Newcastle before moving to Paris over ten years ago. She got along with Anna right from the off, and had been helping her get used to the production and figure her way out around the city.

"That's brilliant!" Anna exclaimed. "God, thanks loads. I was completely lost trying to talk to him. I was afraid he was going to throw me out at one point."

"Oh, he's an old softie. He just likes to act all gruff, that's all. He thought you were some spoiled English wife looking for special treatment because of that massive diamond you've got," Edna joked.

Anna glanced down at her wedding and engagement rings and frowned for a second before recovering. "Oh. Well, whatever, I'm just glad it's all sorted. Now I can move on to the next calamity."

"Don't let it get to you," Edna advised. "Even if you were completely fluent, you'd probably still get treated a bit rudely. Parisians are just like that. They can smell when you're not one of them. They're even horrid to other French people, though they're not as bad as they used to be, mind."

Anna laughed and nodded. "I wish I could say that was the last favour I'll need, but I doubt it will be."

"Hey, you can rely on me as much as you like. It's been ages since I've had another Brit to work with. Besides, it's a nice change from filling out call sheets and organizing the extras," Edna said.

"Well, all the same, first round's on me the next time we're at the pub," Anna said, keeping her voice down as the scene continued filming before them.

"I'll remember that," Edna promised. "Speaking of which, Friday's Bastille Day and it should be a blast there. Do you think that Mary will let you off early?"

Anna took out her phone and looked at her calendar. "Oh, I can't. I've got a few things booked that day already."

"Aww, damn. Is your husband coming in for the long weekend?" Edna asked.

Anna swallowed and shook her head. "No. He's busy with work so he can't make it. I probably won't see him for a while, actually."

"Wow, that's brutal, yeah? Spending a summer in the City of Love without your husband?" Edna remarked.

"Oh, it's all right. We talk pretty much every day, and I'm sure we'll come back here on vacation at some point," Anna said.

Her stomach clenched, her mind recoiling at her own words. She didn't exactly talk to Alex as much as she texted or emailed him. With the six-hour time difference between Toronto and Paris, she was usually asleep by the time he was done at the office. Plus, she was running around a lot in these first few days, trying to get Mary settled and arranging everything. She tried to call him when she could, but most nights they ended up leaving each other voicemails, or just trading texts hours apart.

She missed him, not just his presence but she missed the way she used to be with him, because that wasn't the way they were now. When she managed to get him on the phone, she could tell he was being a bit cautious and guarded, and that made her feel terrible. He was afraid of saying the wrong thing, of possibly setting her off, and despite his usual cheerfulness, she knew he still resented her for going to France without him. Why wouldn't he? It was because of her that he wasn't here, that they weren't together. They didn't flirt, barely joked, and there was a distance between them in their conversations that she didn't know how to bridge. It felt almost as if they were keeping touch out of obligation more than anything else.

"Well, Saturday night, then," Edna said. "The pub will be full of Brits in for the weekend, so it should be super fun!"

"Sounds great," Anna agreed, smiling bravely.

 **Playa de Izturun, Zumaia, Basque Country, Spain, July 12, 2017**

"And action!"

Matthew blinked several times, slowly opening his eyes. He spat out sea water and panted, turning over on to his back and groaning, staring up at the blue sky. The waves crashed on to the beach and came crawling up to him, the cold water dousing him thoroughly before receding back. He sat up, covering his face with his hands, his soaked and torn clothes clinging to his skin. Raising his head, he looked to his left and right, trying to figure out where he was, then moved to stand up.

"Argh!" he grunted, cringing as a sharp pain shot up his calf. He shifted his weight to his other leg, but this caused him to hop a bit as he turned around and clumsily waved his arms to stay upright.

"Cut! Cut!"

"Sorry, sorry," Matthew called, falling down to his knees in the wet sand. He sat down with great difficulty and reached for his leg, rubbing his calf and groaning in discomfort.

"You okay, Matthew?" the director asked, coming over with a team of assistants to check on him.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's just a stupid cramp," Matthew mumbled.

Someone threw a large towel across his shoulders while someone else wondered aloud if they should call one of the paramedics over to look at Matthew's leg. His face warmed in embarrassment and frustration, silently trying to order his calf to loosen up.

"Uh, look, you need to change anyway, Matthew, so let's take a break. You can get some water and stretch out your leg and we'll pick up again as soon as you're ready," the director said, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

"I can go now, I just need a few seconds and it'll be fine," Matthew said tightly.

The director was already walking up the beach with his entourage, the staff yelling out to everyone looking on that they were on break until Matthew's cramp passed.

He scowled as he kept trying to stretch his leg.

"Matthew, let's go up to the wardrobe trailer. You need to get out of those wet clothes."

He looked up and smiled sheepishly at Lavinia. Two production assistants helped him stand up and went with him as he moved gingerly up the beach to the staging area where all the trailers were set up. He went into Wardrobe and got out of his wet clothes, drying himself off and putting on a robe. Slumping into a chair, he kept working on his calf, trying to get the blood moving down his leg faster to get him back to normal.

"Here, drink," Lavinia ordered, coming into the trailer and handing him a sports drink.

"Thanks," he mumbled, popping the cap and taking a long drink.

"Matthew, you really need to relax out there. You're tight, literally and figuratively," she said.

"Yeah, I…it's just…I'm not used to filming in the water, I guess," he said, a fresh shot of embarrassment coursing through him.

She chuckled and shook her head. "I know you want everything to be perfect, and yeah, it's a complicated scene. You're soaked, the water's freezing, there's probably sand in some rather inconvenient places, and all the while, you're trying to look dashing and heroic, rising to your feet and marching up the beach, a man on a mission."

He scoffed and frowned.

She laughed again. "Matthew, this could end up being a memorable scene, the one that everyone talks about when they see the finished movie, the one that gets tongues wagging about you."

He nodded.

"Or it could end up cut from the final print and therefore this entire day could be a waste of time and money," she said easily.

He turned to look at her and crinkled his nose in confusion.

She smiled patiently. "The point is that you have no control over how memorable, how powerful, how effective the scene is in the end. You have no idea if the audience will even get to see it. So, rather than drive yourself insane worrying about whether you look ruggedly handsome enough or not, just act naturally. You've washed up on shore. You thought you were dead. Now you remember that you need to find your sister. That's what drives you to get up and get moving. It's not supposed to be clean and pretty, with your hair perfectly styled and your open shirt billowing in the breeze behind you. Don't worry about how the scene must look. That's the cinematographer's job. Just get it done."

He looked away, thinking on her advice. When he pressed his fingers into his calf again, it felt much better.

"I'll go and tell the director that you should be all right in another ten minutes?" Lavinia suggested.

He nodded and smiled at her in thanks.

"Oh, and just in case you need some help lightening up, here, watch this," she said, passing him her phone.

He took it and looked at the screen. A video of the scene they had just shot, with him yelping in pain like a schoolboy and hopping around on one foot was playing on loop. Lavinia had recorded the entire thing, apparently.

She laughed at his petulant frown. "A good actor knows how to laugh at himself, Matthew."

He gave her a sarcastic smile and passed her phone back.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, July 13, 2017**

"Oh God!" Anna exclaimed, covering her mouth in shock as she looked at the tablet screen.

"What is it?" Mary asked, glancing up from her own tablet and looking over to Anna from her spot lounging on the vintage sofa.

Anna swallowed and turned her tablet towards Mary.

Mary frowned, then rolled her eyes and went back to her own browsing. "Ah, yes. That's the one where it's my head on some porn star's body. Whoever that is, she's quite beautiful, but I would never get a tattoo in that exact location."

Anna quickly closed the image and returned to her original browser window. "What moves someone to do that? To actually spend time creating this fake picture of you?"

"I have no idea. That's what I'm supposed to be figuring out," Mary muttered, scrolling over some of the thousands of comments on the photo she posted to Instagram yesterday of her smiling on the gleaming white steps of Sacré-Coeur Basilica. The overwhelming majority were positive, the usual _'you're so gorgeous, Queen!'_ , _'ILYSM'_ and heart emojis from fans all around the world. She ignored the hate and spam messages. She was looking for something more, something approaching obsession that her director had told her to tap into.

 _'I hope and pray that I meet you someday. You're my favourite actress ever!'_

 _'Your tits look great. Did you get surgery?'_

 _'Sweet Jesus, bae! I would so give it to you raw!'_

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I don't think this is helping. Even if you could say that any of these fans are 'obsessed' with me, it isn't the same as Antoine and Lily. At worst, they might want to see me naked or have sex with me. Antoine wants something more than that."

Anna cringed and nodded. This was certainly turning out to be one of the more bizarre research assignments they'd done together. "Let's focus on the characters then. He doesn't start out obsessed with her. So what happens?"

"It starts out as this sort of paternal, protective relationship," Mary continued. "He's older than her, has promised to do her this favour. She's all alone in Paris at first. He feels she's his obligation…"

"He doesn't think she's able to cope without him," Anna noted.

"Right. It all changes though when he sees her model for the art class. She's no longer just his friend's niece. She's a woman to him now. He sees her in a sexual way for the first time, but it's more than that. He sees beautiful women all the time and doesn't look twice at them. Lily is different."

"Or the 'second Lily' is different," Anna said.

"Exactly. So now he has this protective instinct towards a beautiful woman who he also finds very sensual and arousing. They start to spend more time together. His infatuation is turning into something else," Mary explained.

"Because he sees her as not just being beautiful, but she inspires him, both artistically and emotionally," Anna said, scrolling through the images on her tablet screen. When Googling Mary, the majority of photos were promotional shots and screen captures of her and Henry, usually kissing or embracing. "Being with her isn't just arousing him. It makes him feel better about himself, feeds his ego."

"She makes him feel good, or the idea of her does," Mary remarked. "Whether it's just feeling happy, or confident, turning him on, whatever. The thought of her makes him feel better than he does normally. That's the obsession. He wants to feel like that all the time, and it manifests itself in her."

"Like being in love," Anna said slowly.

"Yes, but crucially, when it's apparent he can't be with her in that way, he doesn't just give up or admire her from afar, he now begins to plan ways to be with her constantly. More modeling assignments, more tours of the city, and it all comes to a head at the café," Mary said.

"You do look good together. Vincent is a very handsome man," Anna said.

Mary smirked. "Yes, and at over 20 years older than me, he is exactly the type of man that the movies say would be perfect for me."

Anna laughed ruefully.

"Anyway, that's the key, then. I need to be this ideal version of Lily at times, so the audience can see what he sees in her, but also show that things are going very well for her also. It's a bit like when you see someone happy and full of joy, a part of you wants to know what their secret is, and get close to them to share in whatever they've got. Being with Lily lifts him up, or so he thinks, so I need to play her as gradually growing more confident, more calm and at ease with her life, just happier," Mary said, nodding her head.

"Smile and look pretty," Anna said, frowning in thought.

"That's not enough though. There's something more that he sees in her," Mary muttered. "What I need to do is get a different perspective. Think like a man."

Anna scoffed. "You could ask Matthew."

"No, I talked about it with him a bit, but I don't think he's the right person for this," Mary answered. "He's in such a good place right now, with his career and everything else. Of course he loves me, but he doesn't depend on me, he doesn't rely on me for his happiness."

"I don't know if I would say that," Anna countered.

"I'm not saying that I'm not a part of him being happy, but I'm not the only part. Antoine is happy when he's with Lily, and despondent when he isn't. It's unhealthy how so much of his happiness depends on her," Mary said. "We could ask Alex. He could talk about you all day."

Anna frowned, keeping her eyes on her tablet. "I doubt that."

Mary looked over at her friend and her heart tightened in sympathy.

"Well, I suppose I'll just have to go out and find some men, then," Mary said lightly.

Anna smiled. "Can't wait for that. So you've got a monologue in the morning and that's it. The whole city will be shut down for Bastille Day. Are you sure you don't want to go out anywhere? There's parties all over the city."

Mary sighed. "I'm here to work. I want to focus on this film."

Anna nodded and went back to her searches.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Old Quarter, San Sebastián, Basque Country, Spain, July 14, 2017**

Matthew grunted as he did his last push-up, his arms shaking as he raised himself up, then lowered himself back down for the final time. Taking deep breaths, he turned over on to his back and sat up, pausing for a moment before getting to his feet.

With July being the hottest month in northern Spain, every day was filled with glorious sunshine and balmy weather. It made the trip to and from set quite enjoyable, but it meant that he had to slather on the strongest sunblock he could find several times a day. His character wasn't supposed to be tanned until later on in the film, so these first weeks required that he stay as pale as possible. He couldn't ride his bike, was left to do his workouts indoors and didn't even take walks until late in the evenings when the sun had gone down. It was rather comical on set when he would be surrounded by umbrellas and shades between takes. Rooney found it hilarious, since she and the rest of the cast could be as tanned as they wanted. Seeing Matthew so obviously uncomfortable with the 'star treatment' helped break the ice between them, as he was so refreshingly grounded compared to much bigger stars that she'd worked with before.

Walking over to the kitchen, he smirked as he deliberately avoided the last rays of the setting sun streaming in from the terrace. Finishing his bottle of water, he looked up suddenly when the alarm on his phone went off.

Frowning for a second, he took a deep breath and walked over to the dining table. Turning off his alarm, he touched the screen to wake up his laptop. The display brightened immediately and he hit the Refresh button on his browser, holding his breath as the page reloaded instantly. He frowned for a moment before his eyes widened. He read the text twice to make sure he was seeing it correctly.

When he was sure that he was, in fact, reading what he thought he was, he smiled and pumped his fist in relief and pride. Laughing heartily, he opened his video chat app.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, July 14, 2017**

"It's just fucking shit that Henry was nominated again."

Mary laughed, shaking her head at Sybil's frowning face on her tablet screen. She was so elated at her own news that she didn't even care about Henry. The mention of the man's name could do nothing to dampen her mood.

"It was highly likely that he would be. Once you've been nominated and won, you're pretty much a lock to be up for it every year, and to be fair, his storyline in Season 4 was quite impressive," Mary said.

"I suppose so, I just don't want to have to see the smug bastard on television," Sybil said, rolling her eyes.

"At least you can change the channel. I'll have to see him live and in person," Mary joked. "Anyway, I don't even care. It's such a stupid cliché to say that I'm just happy to be nominated, but honestly I am. After everything that's gone on this past year, to be up for another Emmy – I thought it was impossible, absolutely impossible."

"You deserve it, darling. I'm glad the Academy isn't as completely insane as the studios are," Sybil said cheerfully.

Mary laughed, then looked up as the door opened and Anna came in.

"It's Sybil," Mary said, smiling at her assistant.

"Hello Anna!" Sybil called.

"Hi Sybil," Anna said. "I'm just going to grab some glasses for the champagne."

She headed off towards the kitchen, the sisters' pleasant conversation following her down the hall.

"How are you feeling?"

"So much better. I was exhausted yesterday. The baby kept moving all night and I just couldn't get comfortable. She's not even kicking for real yet, so that's going to be an absolute treat when she really gets going."

"I bet Tom is loving it, though."

"God, that man! He eggs her on! He keeps rubbing my belly and telling her to kick! I'm going to fucking kick him in the bollocks one of these days, I swear. See how much he likes it."

Mary laughed.

Anna stopped and closed her eyes, cringing at hearing their conversation. Eventually, she shook her head and continued on to the kitchen as Mary and Sybil kept chatting away.

"Have you spoken to Mum?" Sybil asked.

"Not yet. She texted me her congratulations but we haven't talked about the other thing," Mary said, sighing and shaking her head. "I suppose we'll have to. I really don't want to get into it with her, but it won't do to not talk to her at all until the wedding."

"Just get it over with," Sybil said. "You know that whatever she says won't make any sense to you, but just let her say her piece and leave it."

"Champagne!" Anna announced, bringing two flutes into the living room and handing one to Mary.

"Santé!" Mary said, clinking glasses with Anna and taking a long sip. "Mmm, that's quite good."

"I tracked down a bottle of 2004 Belle Epoque Rosé earlier in the week, just in case," Anna said proudly. "I had a feeling we'd be opening it today."

Mary laughed and smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

"Well, you can't just celebrate with champagne, can you? Go out! Isn't it close to 9 over there?" Sybil asked.

"It is, and it's Friday night, not to mention a national holiday," Anna added.

Mary rolled her eyes and grinned. "All right. Perhaps some dancing is in order. Do you think you can get us in anywhere on such short notice?"

"Leave it to me," Anna said. "Bye, Sybil."

"Bye, Anna!" Sybil said pleasantly.

Mary's eyes brightened as she saw a new chat window pop up on her screen.

"Darling, I've got to go. Matthew's calling," Mary said.

"Oh! Tell him I'll call him back tomorrow. Congrats again, darling! Love you!" Sybil said quickly.

"Love you too. Bye," Mary replied, closing the call with Sybil and answering the call with Matthew. She grinned when his smiling face showed up on screen. His hair was a bit messy and he wasn't wearing a shirt.

"Goodness, naked already? Rather eager, are we?" she teased.

He laughed and shook his head. "I was just working out, I'll have you know." He moved his tablet down to show he was wearing his Manchester United football shorts, then brought it back up to his face. "See?"

"Yes. That's rather disappointing of you," she said with false disappointment.

He chuckled. "Congratulations, darling. I never doubted you would be nominated again."

"I certainly did," she replied with a smile. "Thank you, darling. You're so sweet. Now, what do you think Armani will put together for you to wear to the show?"

He smiled at her curiously. "Well, I suppose I'll have to see if I'm invited first."

She nodded in understanding. "I'm sure that Aunt Rosamund will try and convince me otherwise, and I'm sure that I'll be stupid enough to think about listening to her, but for right now darling, let's just say that you're coming with me, because I would love it if you would."

He grinned. "Very well. Since we're pretending, let's talk about what we'll do after you win, and at the after parties, and when we get back to our hotel after that."

She gave him a wicked smile and arched her eyebrow. "I'm all ears."

 **L'Arc Nightclub, Place Charles de Gaulle, Paris, France, July 14, 2017**

Normally Mary wouldn't be impressed by all the fake glitz and glamour of a nightclub. She'd been to plenty in her time and though she was always up for a night of dancing and great music, she wasn't particularly moved by the usual nightclub atmosphere – the coloured lights, the smoke and pyrotechnics, the women wearing next-to-nothing parading around with trays of shots. Paris, just like any other big city was full of young people spending their trust funds and parents' money, or the new rich showing off their fortunes won on the stock market, or on some tech venture. These nightclubs catered to their spoiled egos, usually forcing normal people just looking for a good time to wait in long lines and treating them like lepers if they ever gained admittance. She tended not to associate with people who enjoyed the superficial nightclub lifestyle. Anyone with real money that she knew were too busy working to make more of it to bother with clubbing.

Even she had to admit, though, that this place did trendy excess very well. It faced l'Arc de Triomphe, for one, and crammed as many people in as possible while still keeping a long line outside to maintain the appearance of exclusivity. The bartender, servers, dancers and even the men in charge of clearing away empty glasses were all gorgeous and fit, and the music was loud and throbbing, striking a decent enough balance between mainstream and electronic.

She and Anna walked straight in and were shown to their private VIP booth, far enough away from the crowd, but close enough so they could see and be seen. She greeted people who came up to her that she barely knew throughout the night – models, actors, football players and a hip-hop artist or two. Coming off of her wonderful news, she was in a fantastic mood even before the first round of vodka and tonic, and the special treatment she received only boosted her high. She wasn't against a bit of elitist privilege after what she'd been through this year.

Into her third round now, she was delightfully buzzed, swaying to the music in her little space carved out on the dance floor. Throughout the night, she'd been watching the people around her. Men stalking women. Women coquettishly keeping them at arm's length, or brazenly letting them get closer. The entire idea of obsession filled her mind, and she found herself wondering what everyone's true intentions were. Was it as simple as two beautiful people in the mood for an easy fuck? Was anyone here actually thinking they could use a brief encounter as the beginnings of something more meaningful? Where was the blurred line between conquest and romance?

As she enjoyed the bass thrumming through her body, she stole a few glances to see if anyone was watching her. It was hard to tell in the dark, but she imagined she had picked up a few admirers over the past two hours. She smiled to herself, a flush of pride and a thrill of wickedness filling her. Deep down, it was fun to be admired, to know that she still had 'it', that she could still entice men in this random club, in this foreign city. Her ego had taken numerous hits over the past year, and even this basic level of adulation was secretly welcomed. As the song changed, she opened her eyes and looked around. Anna was dancing a short distance away, lost in the music. Looking over the crowd once more, she spotted a man at a private booth, his dark eyes locked on her. She smirked and held his gaze just long enough so that he knew she noticed him, then kept on dancing while he watched.

* * *

Anna felt hands on her hips. They would touch her lightly, then pull back, only to return again when she didn't turn around or look behind her. She didn't know whose hands they were, didn't want to know. She closed her eyes, head thrown back, arms moving to the rhythm of the music as she danced. When Mary decided they would be going out tonight after all, her spirits had lifted immensely. She and Edna had gone out for drinks a couple of times, but those were just casual trips down to the pub, more about relaxing after work amongst the many ex-pat Brits living in Paris. They were for comfort and conversation more than anything. Mary wanted to party, to celebrate her Emmy nomination, to let loose, and Anna was more than ready to join in.

She had found out about this club early on during their stay, but never had an opportunity to go, and was afraid of showing up on her own. Now that they were here, it met all of her needs. Huge crowd. Frenetic lights. Pounding music. It was a place full of gorgeous people looking to lose themselves for a few hours. Exactly what she wanted to do.

One of the unknown hands slid down her thigh, then moved around and up to cup her arse, not quite groping, but rubbing and caressing, another warm stimulant to go along with the alcohol and music filling her brain. She felt herself floating in the darkness behind her closed eyelids, just another woman dancing in a club, out for a fun night. For a fleeting moment, she remembered the _Paladin_ wrap party, surrounded by her friends, lightheaded from drinking, the heat of the marijuana filling her lungs. That was what she was missing. That extra high. The push to clear her mind completely. She didn't know when she had started thinking about such things, but it came to her now, a craving that she wasn't entirely aware of, but that lay deep in her mind.

After several seconds, she opened her eyes and walked away, leaving the faceless stranger behind and shimmying her way through the crowd until she carved out another place to dance. Closing her eyes again, she smiled as she caught up to the beat of the song and let her body move as it wished.

* * *

"I've been watching you. But then, you already knew that."

The voice was sophisticated and deep, the slight hint of an accent that Mary couldn't quite place. She turned around to face her admirer, the man having finally moved from his private booth to come over to her. He moved slowly back and forth from side-to-side, not quite dancing, not quite standing still. His eyes, now so close to hers, were a chocolate brown, darker than his hair, which was closely cropped on the sides, but slightly curly on top. His perfect teeth and expensive suit screamed money.

"You're not the only one watching me," she replied, continuing to dance, though she kept her eyes on his.

"No, I'm probably not," he said, leaning in closer so she could hear him. "But you've been dancing alone, so I thought I'd come and rescue you."

"Rescue me?" she repeated with a smirk. "From what?"

"From anyone else who might be watching you, anyone who might want to do you harm," he said.

"My, you make it sound as if I'm in danger," she noted, drawing back to look at him in amusement before letting him approach to reply.

"You are. You're in danger of leaving with the wrong man," he said.

"You're rather full of yourself," she noted, enjoying the banter in the middle of the dance floor. The stranger was rather handsome, she had to admit, though a bit too blatant with his leering. It was obvious what he wanted, and that he didn't mind letting her know.

"I believe in being simple and straightforward. You English are too preoccupied with ceremony and process. You know what I want, so why not cut straight to it?" he asked.

She laughed, barely paying attention to the music now as she leaned in. "Sometimes, a woman likes to be pursued, rather than just accosted on the dance floor."

He smiled in reply. "I think you're a woman who appreciates the direct approach. Besides, I don't know when we'll meet again, so it's tonight, or never."

"Again with your grand pronouncements," she teased. "Why me? Why not any of these other women here? I may not be what you think I am."

"You are exactly what I think you are," he replied easily. "You're worth more to me than anyone else here. You're the one I want."

"But why?" she asked, a shiver going down her spine as she felt his warm breath on her neck. Anticipation filled her, both for his answer and for what she had planned for him.

"I have very particular tastes. I like a challenge, but one that is well worth the effort. You enjoy being here, but you don't need to be here. You think yourself above all of this – everyone here – that you're better. I like showing women like you exactly where you belong, who you really are," he rasped.

She rolled her eyes. He was obsessed all right, but obsessed with himself. Still, his approach was instructive, though her addled brain would process it all later on. She hadn't done anything much at all to lure him in, and yet here he was, drawn to the way she moved, whatever attitude she was apparently giving off. Before they even spoke, he had already decided that he wanted her for the night, and his words revealed a darker intent than just a one-night stand. She decided this had gone far enough, but still felt a rush of dueling with him.

"Do you see that blonde over there? The petite one in the blue dress?" she asked.

He looked over her shoulder. "Yes."

"I'm with her," she said, feasting on the surprise in his eyes.

"Bring her along," he retorted. "I can handle the both of you."

She laughed and shook her head. Leaning over, she kissed his cheek and patted his face as if he was a lost puppy. "Thank you for a lovely chat. I found it most entertaining. I can't wait to tell my boyfriend all about you."

He smiled and nodded his head, his dark eyes never leaving hers. She turned around and headed for Anna, not bothering to look back to see if the stranger was still watching her.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Old Quarter, San Sebastián, Basque Country, Spain, July 15, 2017**

 _'Even before all the fame and people screaming your name, girl I was there, and you were my baby…'_

Matthew blinked, the glowing screen of his tablet propped up on his nightstand the only light in the bedroom. Reaching over and tapping the Answer button, he swallowed and cleared his throat as Mary's smiling face appeared on the screen.

"Mary?" he said thickly, his mouth tasting rather unpleasant. "You all right?"

"Hello, darling," she said, smiling warmly. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I needed to talk."

"It's all right," he managed, rubbing his eyes and sitting up in bed. He leaned back against the headboard and brought the tablet over to his lap. "What time is it?"

"Almost half past three," she said easily. "I just left Anna's and I'm in no mood to go to sleep just yet."

"Mmm hmm. What time is your call tomorrow, or later today?" he asked, running his hand over his face and stretching his arms above his head to try and wake himself up.

"Not until the afternoon," she replied.

"All right. How was the club?" he asked.

"It was a lot of fun, actually. I had a great time. There were paparazzi there when we left so you might see my photo online any minute now," she said, laughing.

"I'll look out for that, then," he said.

"Darling, I have a bit of a confession to make," she said, arching her eyebrow and biting her finger.

He blinked, waking up a little more. "A confession? About what?"

"I did a bit of flirting tonight, you see. It wasn't anything serious, but I was essentially propositioned on the dance floor by someone. I didn't bother finding out his name. I think he was Eastern European. Anyway, I did shut him down, of course, but I played with him a little bit first. I actually wanted to know why exactly he was interested in me, why he chose me out of the crowd. He didn't seem to know who I was, or if he did, he didn't let on that he did. It was real world research for the movie, but I won't insult you by pretending that's all it was," she explained, her expression growing more nervous as she spoke.

He blinked and nodded slowly. "You liked the attention."

She lowered her eyes for a moment before looking at him again. "Yes," she whispered.

"Did you ever consider taking him up on his offer?" he asked, his voice firm.

"No," she said immediately, shaking her head. "Never. I always knew I was going to reject him. I suppose that's why I enjoyed it so much, letting him dangle a bit before I cut him loose, because I knew I always would be loyal to you in the end."

"Are you telling me this because you feel guilty?" he questioned.

"No," she replied.

He nodded. "Are you telling me this because you've been bad?"

Her eyes widened, a slight gasp leaving her lips. "Yes."

"And what should your punishment be?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

She blinked. "Whatever you decide," she hissed, taking a sharp breath.

He grinned and set the tablet down in front of him, leaning it up on its stand. "I love you, and I trust you. I want you to be careful when you do go out. You know how easily things can take a dangerous turn, especially when it's just you and Anna out together."

She smiled in return, setting her tablet down on the bed and sitting back so he could see all of her. "I love you too, more than anything in the world."

He nodded, his smile turning sinister. "Now take off your dress, slowly."

 **The Bombardier Pub, Quartier Latin, Paris, France, July 21, 2017**

"So I saw the rough cut of one of Mary's monologues today. Damn, she's fucking good!" Edna remarked.

Anna drank her draught beer and nodded. "She's been working her ass off trying to get it right. We're still tweaking a few things, looking for that balance for Lily between naïve innocent and temptress, or figuring out two versions of Lily that she wants to play."

"So what? You pretend to be Antoine when she does her readings?" Edna asked, laughing.

Anna frowned at her playfully. "I do my job, which is to help her be the best she can be."

Edna laughed and took a drink of her stout ale.

"We've been doing a lot of research into artists and the women who inspired them. It's interesting, actually. Most of the time, they had very passionate relationships with their muses, then separated and had periods of isolation before either finding a new muse or going back to the old one. It's funny. Even after having numerous affairs, they all still invariably claimed that their muse was always their soul mate, their one true love," Anna said.

"That's not an artist thing, that's a male thing," Edna deadpanned. "Men would have still have harems if they thought they could get away with it. One woman to be the muse, one to be the mother, one to be the whore, and one to do all the cooking and cleaning."

Anna laughed and finished her drink.

Edna waved to the bartender and motioned for him to bring Anna another beer.

"No, no! I'm done. I've got to go," Anna protested.

"Oh come on! Just one more!" Edna pleaded. "I'm not even half done mine, and I hate drinking alone. It's so pathetic."

Anna sighed and shook her head as the bartender put another beer in front of her. "All right, fine. But only one."

"Cheers!" Edna said happily, clinking glasses with her.

 **Office of Alexander Lewis, Bay Street, Downtown Toronto, Canada, July 21, 2017**

Mrs. Chen came into Alex's office, already dressed to leave. She walked over and placed a large Tupperware container on his desk. The thump of the rubber hitting the polished wood caused him to turn away from his computer screens and look at the box, then up at her.

"Cha siu bao," she announced.

He smiled and nodded. "Thank you. See you tomorrow."

She nodded and left.

He lifted the lid and smiled at the sight of twelve homemade steamed barbecue pork buns organized in neat rows. Every year for the past six years, Mrs. Chen had cooked them for him. He shook his head and went back to his monitors.

He'd been keeping longer hours since Anna left for France, there being not much reason to be home by any particular hour each day. He had gotten back in the habit of going swimming and working out, so he did work from home a couple of days a week. But when he was in the office, he tended to just stay until ten or eleven at night. His clients were loving the change in his schedule. He was back to taking conference calls at all hours, 10 p.m. for China and Japan, 3 a.m. for Europe, 10 a.m. for New York and 1 p.m. for Los Angeles. He grabbed sleep when he could, finding it sadly quite easy to slip back into his old routine from years ago, when Anna traveled more often and she was only home for a couple of months at a time. His partners were also loving the return to the "old" him. In just three short weeks, his billings were up massively, and he was on his way to having a record month. He had already hit his annual target with five months to spare. The irony did not escape him that he was lined up to make millions in what was turning out to be the worst year of his life.

His parents called this morning, as did Matthew. He got a few texts and emails from his aunts, uncles, cousins, and a few friends. None of them brought up Anna. Matthew, who was the only one who knew the entire situation between them, didn't mention it out of respect. Thankfully, his parents were used to her leaving for work, and never knew about her pregnancy, so they didn't ask any questions and merely assumed it was just another business trip, and that he and his wife would be back to normal come September.

He wished he could be as certain.

The video chat screen popped up on his monitor, taking him by surprise. He glanced at the clock before answering.

"Hi."

"Hi," Anna said, smiling reservedly. "Happy birthday!"

He nodded, acknowledging her attempt at enthusiasm. "Thanks. I…uh…I got your gift. It's great. Thank you."

"I'm glad you like it," she said. "The store clerk promised me that colour and style wasn't available in North America yet."

"No, it's not," he confirmed. "Not until Fall, probably."

"Good thing I happened to be in Paris, then," she said, cringing and swallowing nervously a moment too late.

"Yeah," he said tightly. "Lucky me."

She averted her eyes for a second. "So how was your day?"

"Fine," he answered. "The partners took me out to lunch. We went to Canoe."

She nodded. "That was nice of them. You like it there."

"Yeah. I splurged and had the halibut. It was good," he said curtly.

"Ah. Well, we'll have to celebrate for real when you get to London. Erm…we can go anywhere you like, on me, of course," she offered.

"Sounds great, yeah," he replied, smiling wanly, keeping his eyes on hers.

"Are you going home soon? It's past your usual time to leave," she noted.

"In a bit," he answered. "It's pretty late over there. Long day on-set?"

"Umm, no, well, yes it was. We wrapped at around 8 and I had dinner and drinks with Edna," she explained, gritting her teeth when she realized the implication of what she'd said.

"I see. Well, it's still technically my birthday over here, at least," he said, his eyes locked on hers.

She swallowed. "Yeah, good thing."

"Anyway, I should wrap up here and go," he said, nodding his head.

"Right, yeah," she agreed. "Just text me when you get home so I know you made it back okay."

"Sure."

She looked down, pursing her lips. "Babes, I…I love you," she said, looking up at him imploringly. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks," he said, pausing for a moment. "I love you too. Goodnight."

He ended the call before she could reply, before she saw him pound his fist onto his desk, rattling the Tupperware container, and before he could see her bury her face in her hands and cry.

 **Flat of Alexander Green, Chelsea, London, England, July 25, 2017**

"I get it. She's your type. Blonde, blue eyes, short, fit, a bit naïve, and married. I get all that. What I don't get is that you've been trying for how many months now? You usually don't put so much effort into it. You're usually bored long before now and just move on."

Green smiled, walking around his office in his underwear. He went over to the bar and poured himself a Scotch, carried it over to his desk and wandered out into the hallway and back again, all while maintaining the conversation.

"You of all people know that I make exceptions when I think it's worth it, and she's worth it," he said easily.

"It can't be just for the sex. She's got money but it's all her husband's, and I know you aren't trying to steal her from him. That's definitely not you. So what, then?"

He laughed and shook his head, leaning over his desk and bringing up his collection of photos of Anna that he'd taken while he was in Toronto. "If you must know, it's because of a number of reasons – mainly that my first attempt didn't work, and that Tony and Mabel told me to give her up."

"Ah! Now that makes sense. Nothing gets your back up more than being told you can't do something."

He snorted. "I should thank them in the end. Pulling this off is going to be fucking sweet. Now, you're sure that she's on her own for the summer?"

"She said she isn't going to see her husband until we wrap and she goes back to Canada. He hasn't shown up yet, that's for sure."

"He'll probably meet her in London for Lady Edith's wedding next month. It's going to be a big Society do. She'll be coming up for it, guaranteed, and I can't imagine he won't be there, especially if they've been apart for over a month by then," he mused.

"Maybe you'll get lucky and she'll show up on her own."

"Maybe she'll show up on her own and I'll get lucky," he joked.

"You're such a fucking prat."

"Careful," he warned her mischievously. "Don't talk to your employer like that."

"Blackmailer, more like it," Edna grumbled.

"Now, now, we both know you love a good scheme, don't you?" he said smugly. "And we both know how much you hate being stuck as a Third Assistant Director. Well, play your role in this and you'll be moving up, just like I promised."

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't hurt her. I quite like her, actually. She's really nice," she said.

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt her. I'm going to do her a favour. I'm going to open her eyes," he said.

"Yeah, whatever," she scoffed.

He frowned when the call waiting beeped in his headset. Glancing over at his phone, his annoyance vanished and he grinned widely.

"Sorry, honey. I've got another call. I'll check in with you again next week. Ta!" he said, hanging up before Edna could respond. He picked up the call waiting and sat down at his desk, his hand resting between his legs. "Well, hello."

"Hi," Anna said. "Sorry for taking so long to call you back. It was hell on-set today."

"No problem, no problem. I was just on the line with my aunt. You saved me from listening to her tell me about getting a boil lanced," he said, using his free hand to bring up a photo of them from the wrap party. He had his arm around her, she was leaning against him, her eyes dazed from the weed she'd smoked.

"Eww, that's disgusting," she said.

"Yeah, it's gross. I would much rather talk to you. How was your day? Tell me about what happened on-set?" he asked, grinning as he stared at their photo and stroked himself.

* * *

 **Song Credit:**

 **My Boo –** Usher and Alicia Keys, (2004), LaFace Records


	11. Chapter 11

**Previously:**

 **Flat of Alexander Green, Chelsea, London, England, July 25, 2017**

He frowned when the call waiting beeped in his headset. Glancing over at his phone, his annoyance vanished and he grinned widely.

"Sorry, honey. I've got another call. I'll check in with you again next week. Ta!" he said, hanging up before Edna could respond. He picked up the call waiting and sat down at his desk, his hand resting between his legs. "Well, hello."

"Hi,' Anna said. "Sorry for taking so long to call you back. It was hell on-set today."

"No problem, no problem. I was just on the line with my aunt. You saved me from listening to her tell me about getting a boil lanced," he said, using his free hand to bring up a photo of them from the wrap party. He had his arm around her, she was leaning against him, her eyes dazed from the weed she'd smoked.

"Eww, that's disgusting," she said.

"Yeah, it's gross. I would much rather talk to you. How was your day? Tell me about what happened on-set?" he asked, grinning as he stared at their photo and stroked himself.

 **Chapter 11:**

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, August 1, 2017**

Margaret parked her Honda Civic on the street. She didn't feel comfortable leaving it on the driveway even though there was room for six cars or more next to the red Ferrari. With her luck, her car would leak oil on to the pristine asphalt and she'd be fired before she even made it back to the office.

She shook her head. No, her luck was changing, surely. She had lucked into this assignment, hadn't she? A quick drive up to Rosedale to drop off important documents to Mr. Lewis. This was a gopher task that articling students always got stuck with, but as far as mindless jobs went, it was a plum one.

She smiled, checking her makeup in the visor mirror. Licking her lips, she unbuttoned the top of her dress shirt, decided that was too much cleavage and did one back up. She looked herself over yet again before grabbing her briefcase and getting out of the car.

Glancing around nervously, she crossed the kerb and went down the pavement to the house, doing her best to act as if she came here all the time. Mr. Lewis' house was amazing, not as big as some of the other ones on the street, but still massive and beautifully decorated. A large magnolia tree stood in the front yard, and the path up to the door was lined by purple, pink, and white azaleas, and other pretty flowers and greenery that she didn't recognize. There was a calming vibe about the place, and when she finally reached the door, she felt more at ease, though still eager with anticipation. She was about to ring the bell when she remembered that her instructions were to go around and straight to the backyard. Shaking her head and quietly cursing her own forgetfulness, she turned and walked briskly around the side of the house, her heels clicking on the driveway. She made sure to give the Ferrari a wide berth.

She expected to see staff on the grounds – security, gardeners, housekeepers, or someone, anyone, really. The place seemed far too big for just Mr. Lewis himself. He was married, but gossip around the office was that his wife was away for the summer, gone to Europe with her boss, the actress Mary Crawley. There were photos on gossip websites of Mary Crawley spotted leaving several posh Paris nightclubs and restaurants, often with Mr. Lewis' wife at her side. That seemed normal enough at first, but one of the other students had heard from Vicky in HR, who had heard from Sandra, the assistant to one of the senior partners, that Mr. Lewis and his wife were having problems. Margaret didn't know if she quite believed all of that talk, but she definitely found it strange that any woman could keep herself away from Mr. Lewis for a couple of days, let alone the whole summer. He was rich, gorgeous, brilliant, and unlike most of the partners in the firm, wasn't stuck up and ancient. She'd take him over anyone in France any day.

She let herself into the backyard through the ornate iron gate and her breath caught. Mr. Lewis was swimming, doing lengths of the huge swimming pool that barely took up half the space. His tanned arms swept out of the water as he glided through the blue water, his legs churning a bubbly froth behind him. Margaret slowly walked over to the deck, staying quiet lest she disturb him, or ruin the wonderful view.

Eventually, he stopped at the far side and paused for a second before lifting himself out of the pool. Water streamed down on to the sun-drenched deck as he raised up to his full height and walked over to a lounge chair for his towel. She swallowed as her eyes devoured his broad shoulders, tapered back, tight ass and long legs. She bit her lower lip and tried to keep her eyes away from the black Speedo he was wearing. When he turned his head and noticed her, she smiled and nodded politely.

"Mr. Lewis," she said.

"Margaret," Alex replied, wrapping the towel around his waist. "Or, you prefer Madge, right?"

"Either or, yeah," she said, shrugging her shoulders and trying to calm herself as he approached. His chest and abs were just unfair, fit and trim, not muscle-bound, so perfect.

"Thanks for coming up," he said, smiling as he reached her.

 _'I'll come anywhere you want'_ she thought, then blinked and shook her head. "Sure. Anything for a partner."

He smirked as he waited patiently for her to proceed. "Mrs. Chen gave you the FilmNation agreement, yes?"

She blinked in realization. "Oh! Yeah, yeah, it's right here."

He smiled in amusement as she rummaged through her bag and took out a thick file folder. Through his years of practice, there were always rumours here and there about a senior partner in some downtown law firm taking advantage of a student or young associate. It was dangerous to put young women into a male-dominated industry where the power dynamics were so decidedly one-sided. Mrs. Chen often told him that he had admirers in the office, but he liked to think that this young woman was flustered from her inexperience, rather than anything else.

"Thanks," he said, taking the folder from her. He opened it and flipped the pages to make sure all of the signatures were original and in the right spots. Closing it up, he looked back at her.

"Have you had lunch yet, Madge?" he asked.

Her eyes lit up. "No, sir," she said.

"Go and grab something on your way back, whatever you want," he instructed. "You can bring the receipt to Mrs. Chen and she'll make sure it gets put through petty cash for you."

"Yes, sir," she replied, trying to hide how crestfallen she was. The idea of Mr. Lewis making lunch for her in his Speedo was going to be difficult to forget.

"Come on, you can go out through the house," he said, leading the way.

She tried to avoid staring, either at him or the house as he escorted her to the front door. The place was something out of a magazine – a magazine for rich people with lavish homes. A magazine for rich people with lavish homes and amazing bodies who could have her on her knees and throwing her career away before it even started with a snap of his fingers.

"You have a lovely home, Mr. Lewis," she said.

"Thank you. My wife did pretty much all of the decorating," he replied plainly.

They reached the foyer and Alex opened the door for her. "Thanks again, Madge. See you tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. Anytime. Bye," she said, smiling and nodding before heading out and down the path to her car.

Alex waited until she got in the car before he closed the door. Turning away, he smiled wryly and shook his head. "They're getting younger and younger all the time," he muttered.

She wore a wide grin all the way through lunch. Even the brief visit with Mr. Lewis would have her officemates raging with jealousy, she thought smugly.

 **Jardin des Tuileries, 1** **er** **Arrondissement, Paris, France, August 3, 2017**

Anna grimaced and breathed harshly, pumping her arms as she sprinted the final two hundred metres to the end of the running loop. She passed tourists, couples taking a stroll, and business people having an afternoon coffee break in the park. With the Louvre looming in front of her, she reached the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel and eased to a slow walk. She took off her sunglasses and put them on top of her head, going over to lean against the Arc so she could stretch her legs. Frowning at the lap time on her watch, she took her water bottle out of her belt holster and had a long drink. She was a few seconds off of her personal best from last week.

After trying numerous routes around the city, she had settled on this scenic circuit for her daily run. Starting in the Tuileries Gardens across from the Louvre, she went west, past l'Orangerie, up the Champs Elysées to l'Arc de Triomphe and back. Mary usually came with her but she was having a kip before her dinner meeting with Paul tonight.

A month into filming and being in Paris still felt so surreal. The production had been no-nonsense from the start, with a strict mood and pace on-set. Mary liked it. She was all for just showing up and getting the work done. Whenever anyone made a mistake, they might have a light chuckle about it and get on to the next take, but there was none of the camaraderie and shenanigans of _Paladin_ or _Shattered_. The budget was limited, so wasting precious time wasn't an option. Besides that, Anna didn't think that she and Mary were quite accepted by the rest of the cast and crew. They all got on well enough, but except for Edna, she didn't have any real rapport with anyone else. Everyone was following Paul's orders and trying to get through each day as efficiently as possible. The coming four days were the first weekend they had off since arriving in France, and she was hoping to finally get out to Versailles.

She lifted her leg to stretch her quads, gazing over to the Pyramide shining in the sunlight. Her heart clenched, thinking of how much Alex would enjoy being here, how fun it would be to tour the Louvre and Musée d'Orsay with him, or stroll through the Tuileries, steal a kiss or two on a shaded bench. The thought of her husband suddenly made her stomach fall and a shiver of fear shot up her spine as unwanted memories and feelings wiped away the lovely scenes in her head. She swallowed and shut her eyes briefly, trying to forget all the despair now associated with him, but still it lingered, a dark spectre on the edges of her mind.

Her headset ringing in her ear shocked her back to the present, and she stopped stretching to take out her phone. Rolling her eyes, she debated ignoring the call, but relented in the end.

"Hi, Mum," Anna said briskly.

"Hello, dear. How are you?"

"Good, thanks. I'm just out for a run," Anna replied.

"Oh, that's lovely! It must be just gorgeous over there!"

"Yeah, yeah it is," Anna agreed. "Look, Mum, I've got to get back and shower and all that. Can I talk to you tomo…"

"I spoke to Alex this morning."

She shut her eyes. Damn. She should have known this would be one of _those_ conversations.

"Yeah?" Anna replied, opening her eyes and starting the walk back to her building. "And?"

"He seemed a bit down to me, not really sounding quite like himself."

"Well, he's busy with work," Anna noted, hoping that Mum would leave it at that, but knowing full well that she wouldn't.

"He works too hard. He should take a break and come over to see you."

' _Well, that didn't take her long,'_ Anna thought. "Mum, we're going to see each other in less than two weeks in London for Lady Edith's wedding. I'm sure he can hang on until then."

"He doesn't have much of a choice, now does he? You certainly haven't given him any other option."

"He knows that I'm busy," Anna said tightly, ignoring some of the appraising looks she got as she headed past the Louvre and down rue Rivoli. She wasn't the only woman walking around downtown Paris in a sports bra and yoga pants, but she got her fair share of stares nonetheless.

"He knows it, yes, but that doesn't make it any easier on him, I'm sure."

"It's not easy for me either, you know?" Anna snapped. "It's not as if I'm having a grand old time here without him. I'm working."

"Is that what you call it? And what scene were they filming in that nightclub at the weekend when you were wearing that dress that didn't even go down to your knees?"

Anna rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Bye, Mum."

"Anna May…"

Anna bristled at Mum's firm tone, but stayed on the call. "What is it?" she asked in exasperation.

"He loves you, you know."

She stopped and got out of the way of people walking past her, leaning against a building that was probably a hundred years old or more. "Yeah, I know."

"And you love him."

"For God's sake, of course I love him!" Anna said brusquely. "I just can't be around him right now. Every time I talk to him, I just think about…I just can't have him here with me. Hopefully, things will be better in London, and by the time I get back home, then…"

"Then what? You'll magically get over yourself and everything will be back to normal after spending months away from him?"

Anna frowned. "I suppose you have a better idea, then?"

"Yes, I do. It's called stop wallowing and go and be a proper wife to your husband."

"Wallowing?!" she exclaimed, turning towards the wall and lowering her voice. "Mum, I'm not fucking wallowing, all right? You go and ruin your life and see how fast you bounce back."

"Dear, you haven't ruined your life, but you're about to if you keep this up. Now I already told you. Your aunt Myrtle lost two before she…"

"Yeah, yeah, Mum that doesn't make me feel any better," Anna groaned. "It only means that I'm probably more likely to lose the next one, too."

"Well, you're ensuring there won't be a next one at all by keeping Alex at arm's length, that's for bloody sure."

"I'm hanging up now, Mum," Anna declared curtly.

"Wait, wait. Look, I'm sorry, all right? I just hate seeing you like this, the both of you."

Anna rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Don't you think that you're not giving Alex a fair shake?"

Anna shook her head. "I never said that any of this was fair to him. It's just something I need to do. I need some space. It's how I'm coping, and he knows that."

"I'm not talking about what happened, or how you're coping, even. I'm talking about what you're feeling inside, why you're so scared of him, why you think you can't be around him."

"Mum…" Anna warned.

"Your Dad was shit, all right? He was a shit husband, a shit father, and a shit provider. He was absolutely the worst man I could have chosen to set an example for you about what men are supposed to be, and how they're supposed to treat women. I know that I stopped him from putting his hands on you, but I didn't stop all the yelling and the insults. I thought that was his right as your father, you see, cause he was supposed to be the disciplinarian in the house. I never imagined how it might affect you."

"I know, Mum, all right? Please don't…" Anna struggled.

"I never thought you'd take all the name-calling and the bullying and all of that to heart, because you always seemed to ignore it. You worked so hard in school and everything, and I knew you were going to do better for yourself, make something of yourself, no matter what he said about you. When he left, I figured you would be all right, that you'd made it through untouched."

"Mum, come on…" Anna pleaded, the tears welling as that horrible voice that she absolutely despised filled her head again.

 _'You fucking stupid girl! The hell is wrong with you?'_

 _'You're worthless, you know that?! Fucking good for nothing.'_

 _'Your Goddamn mother ought to have given me a son. Now I gots to put up with the likes of your useless little self for God knows how long.'_

She shut her eyes tight and held herself, only calming after she banished her father's voice once again.

"I never thought you would carry that with you all this time, but I should have. I should have known because I still hear that bastard's voice every once in a while meself, and I swear on all that is Holy, Anna, I will go to my grave more sorry that I let his words affect you than for anything else I've ever done."

Anna sniffled and covered her mouth with her hand.

"You've got a good man, my dear girl. When I first met him, I didn't know what to make of him. He looked so different from anyone you'd dated before, and acted so different too. And I'm not talking about his money. He's a real gentleman, he is. He puts up with me ringing him up all the time, doesn't he? He even pretends to like it, for your sake."

Anna laughed shakily and nodded her head.

"You've got a great man, and they're not like buses. There won't be another one along in ten minutes' time. Please don't lose him, because you will. If you keep testing him, keep trying his patience, keep pushing him away, he'll give you up. He won't want to, but every man has his limits, even him."

Anna closed her eyes and cried. "Suppose he's better off giving me up, though? Suppose he deserves better?" she whispered.

"Oh, Anna, dear, you don't mean that."

"I've got to go. I'll talk to you later," Anna said, hanging up and heading off down the street.

 **La Table du Lancaster, 8** **e** **Arrondissment, Paris, France, August 3, 2017**

"So far, you are doing okay."

Mary arched her eyebrow and looked across the table at her director. He was devouring his lièvre à la Royale with zest, savouring the delicate meat with each of the five different condiments spread across his plate. She was grateful that the dish did not resemble anything close to a rabbit when it was served.

"Just okay? Is this one of those times where you can't think of the proper word in English?" she asked, smirking as she took another bite of her sea bass.

"Okay is okay. Not quite good. Not quite bad. Is okay."

She frowned for a second but composed herself. "I see. And what do I need to do to become good, then, pray?"

"There is no need to pray, only work and listen."

Her eyes widened incredulously.

" _Marie_ , you are very hard working, dedicated, disciplined. You have talent, yes. I see you becoming a very good actress, even a star, and it does not matter about all of the…what is it… _les cancans_ …the rumours…"

"But you believe I'm lacking in some area," she guessed.

He nodded. "The commitment."

"I'm not following," she said, shaking her head. "You just said that I was dedicated."

"You are, yes, but always still in control, no? You have your way, and you do things your way, and if it is the same as my way, then _bon_. But, if not, you still decide in the end how you will perform."

"I try and interpret your vision, yes," she said, taking a sip of wine.

"Exact! You are interpreting. I do not want you to interpret. I want you to do. I want you to do what I say."

She blinked. "I am."

He smiled and shook his head, finishing his rabbit and dabbing at his mouth with his linen napkin. He took his time before replying, taking a slow sip of wine and not speaking until he set the glass down.

"Your hair. Tomorrow we cut."

She frowned. "My hair?"

He nodded.

"We've already shot scenes with it at this length, though. Why would I cut it? And why would I need to cut it? We can just use a wig if you want a different look."

He laughed and clapped his hands. "You see? I give you an instruction, and you ask the questions. No. I say. You do. Simple."

She blinked. "Fine. I'll cut my hair."

He smiled. "You do not have to cut your hair."

She shook her head in confusion.

"You do not need to follow my instructions if you do not want. The movie will be made, and it will be good. You will do okay, even if you are only interpreting what I say. But, you ask how to be good, how to be a star, and I tell you. Simple."

She looked at him carefully, judging whether he was spewing some bullshit or not. Paul had a well-known reputation, and if this movie was going to pick up any distribution in North America, it would be because of him, more than likely. Besides that, it could potentially have a high profile release in Europe, which was no small feat.

"If I were to want to be better," she said slowly. "What would you recommend? And you can't just say 'do what I tell you'. I need actual examples so that I can understand the difference."

"The film is about obsession. Have you ever been obsessed?"

"No," she replied.

"You have never been obsessed about a person, perhaps, but what about an idea, a dream, a goal?"

She pondered the question. "There are things that I want in life, yes, but I would not say I am obsessed with them."

He smiled knowingly. "Such as?"

"My career," she replied. "I am very driven to succeed. I spend a great deal of time and effort on building my craft, and I wouldn't do that if I didn't want it to be worth something in the end."

He nodded. "And what are you willing to give up for your career? Antoine risks his job, his reputation, his friendships, his relationship, all for Lily. What are you prepared to do for your career? What will you do so that others think of you in the same way, have the same feelings that Antoine has of Lily when they see you on-screen?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Almost anything, but I'm not obsessed with it, not in the way that Antoine is about Lily. I want it on my terms, to impress people, but not to fill their waking hours."

He looked around the restaurant. He seemed to be well known here. They were greeted warmly upon their arrival and shown to a reserved booth in the corner, away from most of the other patrons.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"I am looking for someone, someone for you to practice on," he replied.

"Practice?" she questioned.

"Someone to lure, to draw in. You must understand what it is to be the hunted, the prey, the object of desire, know how it feels when something starts out as being 'on your terms' but changes to something else. When you first see them interested, it is you that is in control, yes, but when you are faced with how passionate they are, how badly they want to be with you, then it becomes something else, something that you do not control."

Her mind wandered to her ventures to the Paris nightclubs over the past few weekends, the thrill of feeling strangers watching her, teasing them, then leaving them bereft when she made her escape into the night.

"I'll find someone," she said boldly.

He looked at her curiously, finally nodding his assent.

"It cannot be because of your beauty. There are many beautiful women. It must be from inside, from your spirit that draws them in. A beautiful woman will make a man forget himself. An intriguing one will make him want to become whatever he must be to gain her attention. There is a difference."

She smiled and looked around the restaurant, seeing who she could toy with. There were bartenders and servers, but they were too easy – it was already their job to cater to her. She saw couples having romantic dinners and didn't want to intrude, though the idea of stealing someone else's man felt dangerous and risqué. She looked to the bar, seeing who was here alone, or who had come to hunt. Her eyes widened in shock.

"Have you found someone?"

"I have," she confirmed. She looked over to one of the servers who was standing by to attend to them. Giving him a polite smile, she gave him her instructions in perfect French, making sure that Paul heard her tell him to go and fetch a particular man at the bar.

The director watched the server go to the bar and pass on the message to Mary's quarry. The stranger turned and looked over to their table. He smiled, picked up his drink and came over, giving both of them a nod when he arrived.

"Paul, this is Henry Talbot," she said haughtily. "Henry, you've heard of Paul, surely? He's the director of my current project."

"Monseigneur," Henry said, smiling and shaking Paul's hand.

Paul laughed at the deliberate choice of salutation.

"Imagine running into you here, of all places, my darling," Henry said, grinning down at Mary. "I knew you were in Paris, of course, but what are the chances of seeing someone you know in such a large city?"

"Yes, we are quite lucky, aren't we?" she replied, looking up at him. "Won't you have a seat?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude. I'm just here for a drink," Henry said.

"Not at all. Paul was just leaving, weren't you?" she said, looking over at the director.

Paul looked at her for a moment before nodding and getting up from his chair, offering it to Henry. "Good evening."

Henry smiled and took a seat.

"Don't worry, Paul," she said as he turned to leave. "Henry will cover the bill."

Both men looked at her in surprise, then silently acquiesced.

"Well, since I'm paying, I ought to indulge in something decadent," Henry noted, smiling and reaching across the table.

"I'm still with Matthew," she declared, holding his gaze as his hand covered hers.

"And he's not here," he replied easily. "And you've conveniently arranged for us to be alone together."

"To prove a point, nothing more," she said.

"And what point would that be?" he asked.

"That I can have a civil conversation with you without throwing this wine in your face," she said.

He chuckled and took her hand in his, massaging her knuckles with his thumb. "Your director is watching us, isn't he? You're putting on a show for him, a bit of an audition, is it? Showing him that you are capable of being the lead actress he wants you to be?"

She didn't need to look up to know that Paul had gone over to the bar to watch them. "My film is about obsession. I play a woman who becomes the muse of a misguided artist. But then, you knew that, didn't you?"

"I may have heard about your small movie, yes," he confirmed, smirking at her and not releasing her hand.

"Paul believes it's crucial that I understand the mindset of both the artist and the muse, and what drives a man to be so invested in a woman, so unwilling to let her go, even when he ought to," she said.

"Perhaps he wants you to understand that there is a dark side to both the artist and the muse," he said easily. "The artist who wants to possess the woman, and the woman who secretly wants to be controlled, and to bask in his glory."

"I believe the moral of the film is actually that becoming so wrapped up in another person can be one's undoing," she said, deftly removing her hand from his.

He chuckled. "Is that why you're keeping Matthew an entire country away?"

She arched her eyebrow at him. "We'll be reunited soon enough."

"Ah yes, at your sister's wedding," he replied, nodding his head. "It took me a while to find something suitable from her registry, but I managed."

"I'll be sure to warn her to be mindful since there's no such thing as a free gift from you," she retorted.

He laughed and smiled at her. "It must be a welcome event for your family. It will be a relief to be in the papers for something positive for once, won't it?"

"I know that I'll enjoy it. You won't be there, so I won't have to pretend that I'm glad to be there," she replied with a cold smile.

He smirked and shook his head. "Defiant as ever, even when you're barely a step away from making direct-to-video dreck that no one will ever watch. Well, carry on with your European career if you think it's worth it. Whether it will get you back to Hollywood though, well, let's just say I have my doubts. But don't worry, darling. I'll always have a job for you."

She pursed her lips and held his gaze, hoping she looked as unimpressed as she felt.

"Well, as lovely as this has been, I must be going. I would say 'be well' but I don't actually care whether you are or not," she said, rising from her chair.

He stood up also, coming around to her and kissing her on the cheek. "Good night, Mary. Always a pleasure. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon."

She walked past him and out of the restaurant, giving Paul an arched eyebrow as she went by. The director smiled and raised his glass to her in acknowledgment.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Old Quarter, San Sebastián, Basque Country, Spain, August 4, 2017**

"I just think that it plays better if you're the one to hit him, not me," Matthew said into his phone, sidestepping a group of children playing football in the street. "I know that's what the script calls for, but it's so typical. Big brother coming to the rescue and knocking the big bad on his ass. You're the one who's been held in captivity and practically brainwashed. It'll be a nice symbolic moment that you're coming out of it."

"All right, fine," Rooney replied. "I'll back you on it, but please go to him ahead of time, okay? Just springing changes on us in mid-take isn't cool."

He chuckled. "No, no it isn't, but it was worth it to see the look on your face."

"Yeah, fuck you," she joked. "Good night. I'll see you on Tuesday."

"Good night," he answered, going into his building. He avoided the lift and took the narrow stairs up to his apartment, his legs aching as he went. This had been the most physical week of filming yet, with fight scenes and running through sand and mud each day. A month into it, he was now allowed to get a touch of colour on his skin, and biking was permitted finally, not that he had too much time for it. With it being the weekend, he had big plans to go on a long jaunt tomorrow, covering a winding 100 kilometres, but his legs were telling him now that maybe staying in was a better idea.

He unlocked the door and went in, tossing his keys on the side table. Heading down the hall, he frowned suddenly as he came into the living room.

The patio table out on the terrace was set for a dinner for two. He could see the white plates, cutlery and linen napkins through the large bay doors. A simple floral arrangement and two candles were placed in the centre. Perplexed, he turned and headed the short distance to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway, his mouth falling open.

Mary was standing at the stove, stirring what looked and smelled like a delicious sauce. The kitchen was alive with cooking, a large bowl of salad sat on the counter waiting to be dressed, a platter of what appeared to be _jamón ibérico_ and local cheese and bread rested on the small table next to the fridge, and two bottles of wine were set aside. While the meal looked delicious, he couldn't take his eyes off of the chef with her back to him.

Her hair was tied up in a loose bun, her tank top showing off her pale nape and bare back. Her short skirt left her long legs uncovered, and she was barefoot, completely at home in his apartment. He saw she was wearing his bracelet and he grinned, coming up behind her.

"There you are," she said, not looking at him as she continued to stir her sauce. "I was beginning to think I might have to start without you."

She smiled as she felt him draw near. The wooden spoon slowed in the pot when his hands came across her hips and his warm breath washed over her neck.

"Hi," he whispered, kissing her bare shoulder, then her neck, and up to her cheek. "What are you doing here?"

"Surprise," she said, the spoon slipping from her fingers as she leaned back against him. "I have the weekend off so I thought I'd come see you."

"I'm so glad that you did," he whispered, his arms wrapping around her from behind. "I have the weekend off, too. However shall we spend all that time?"

She laughed sultrily, her hand going up to play with his hair and turn his face so she could kiss him properly. "First, we eat," she said, grinning as she stared into those wonderful blue eyes.

"And after?" he asked cheekily.

"After, we work off the meal," she drawled, kissing him and sliding her tongue against his.

 **Playa la Zurriola, San Sebastián, Basque Country, Spain, August 7, 2016**

Mary breathed in the crisp sea air, leaning against Matthew as they walked along the beach. The sand was soft beneath her feet, her hand warm in his, the slight breeze tickling her as they went. She was wearing the least skimpy of the skimpy bikinis that he had bought for her, together with a wrap that barely reached her thighs. He was in board shorts, so he was showing off more skin than she was. They both wore dark sunglasses, and though she didn't think there were such things as paparazzi in San Sebastián, even if there were, she was too content to care. _'Mary Crawley caught cavorting with Matthew Crawley in Spain'_ had a rather nice ring to it.

The weekend had flown by. She had barely seen any of the town and surrounding area before she had to fly back to Paris this afternoon, but it was a welcome break. It was foolish of her to think that she could go without him until they met in London for Edith's wedding. They barely got through dinner on her first night here before they were all over each other. Unable to even make it back to the bedroom, they had rough sex on the living room sofa, and that was just a starter compared to all that followed.

"What I really love is that Rooney's character gets to save herself in a way," he explained eagerly, regaling her with details about his movie.

She listened, smiling at his enthusiasm. This felt so idyllic, the two of them working on interesting films, sharing details about their lives, jetting across Europe to see each other on a whim, walking along a white-sand beach with the sun gleaming on the water. She knew _The Muse_ wasn't the high profile project she thought she would be working on at this stage of her career, but she didn't mind any of that at the moment. She somehow felt she was exactly where she was supposed to be in life – both professionally and personally.

"I tried to do my own stunts, but after a few rather painful mishaps, I gave up," he said sheepishly. "I honestly thought it would be easy, but I still have the bruises to show otherwise."

She nodded and looked out to sea. With Sybil married and six months pregnant and Edith about to tie the knot herself, all eyes would undoubtedly be on Mary when she arrived in London. Truly, she didn't mind that her two younger sisters had married before she did. Her career was always paramount, and still was. She knew she wanted to get married eventually, but she was quite happy as she was. Reuniting with Matthew last year had brought something back to her life that she sorely missed, but she was still in no hurry to change anything about them.

She thought back to Paul's challenge in the restaurant. She always wanted to push her boundaries, take on roles that built upon what she'd done before, show people that she was capable of performances that they didn't expect. Putting herself in her director's hands was never a problem before, but Paul was right. She often preferred to collaborate, or put her own spin or adlib to her lines. He seemed to think she could do more, open up more, delve into a side of her that she maybe hadn't shown fully on-screen yet. She had to admit she was intrigued, even eager to see what he meant over the next two weeks. London would be a chance to recharge her batteries before returning to Paris and tackling the last month and a bit of filming with a different focus.

"What are you thinking about?" Matthew asked, looking at her in amusement. "You seem rather pensive."

She smiled and raised her head, enticing him to give her a quick kiss. "Just thinking about how things have gone these past months. I don't know if I could have asked for a better summer, really, scandals or not."

He nodded, watching her carefully. "A lot will depend on how well these films are received in the end, but it does feel as though we're both making progress, doesn't it?"

"It does," she agreed. "Though I must admit that I still wonder who was able to get into Dad's Cloud account and find that horrible video. Targeting my family like that, setting us up for humiliation and ruin. Who does that?"

"Alex's investigation didn't yield anything. The forensic report was a dead end," he remarked. "I can't even imagine anyone hating you or your family so much that they would go to such lengths to see you fall."

She smirked. "Thank you, darling, but you are biased, rather."

He chuckled. "Are you saying you have a legion of foes lurking in the shadows?"

"No, not that I know of," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "It would certainly make it easier if we could come up with a list of suspects. The only person I can even guess at is Henry, and he wouldn't have the ability to pull it off himself, and besides, I can't imagine he would be so bent on revenge just because I didn't support him during his troubles."

"No, Henry is many things, but this level of hatred is beyond even him," he said. "It would be more his style to threaten you with the existence of the tape and leverage that to get you into bed."

"He would do that, yes," she said, laughing in amusement. "Thank God I have a man who doesn't have to blackmail me into making love to him."

He grinned. "I don't, do I?"

"Certainly not," she teased. "I don't need much convincing to do what you want."

His face lit up adorably. "You have been very generous this weekend."

"You've been quite giving, yourself. Just think, at the wedding we'll be sitting together, dancing together, everything will be permitted," she said, arching her eyebrow playfully at him.

"I believe that the maid-of-honour is supposed to be paired with the best man, not with a mere groomsman," he noted.

"I'll walk up and down the aisle with Charlie, but that's it. I'm yours for the rest of the day and night," she said, stopping and pulling him into a hug.

"Won't there be paparazzi outside the church and the hotel, though?" he asked lightly. "We might be caught in a clinch."

"Everyone knows we're family friends. Being seen with you isn't a crime" she replied. "If we had gotten carried away on your terrace this weekend, then that might have qualified."

He laughed and turned them around, putting his arm across her shoulders. "Come on. We've got to get you packed up and off to the airport in a bit."

She leaned into him. "Not too soon, I hope?"

He gave her a knowing look. "We've got some time."

 **International Arrivals, Terminal 2, Heathrow Airport, London, England, August 15, 2017**

 _'I'm going crazy crazy when I can't touch you; crazy crazy when I can't hold you; crazy crazy when I can't see you again…'_

Alex walked out of the baggage hall and through the sliding doors, his wheeled suitcase trailing behind him. He kept his earphones in, his music drowning out most of the noise of the busy airport terminal. People were hugging and kissing all around him, parents welcoming their children home, families greeting relatives over for a visit, friends picking up friends just in for a vacation, and of course, husbands and wives gratefully reuniting. He walked briskly past all of them and headed towards the car rental counter.

He had debated skipping all the pre-wedding activities and just flying in for the ceremony and reception on Saturday. The bachelor party tomorrow didn't particularly interest him, and the rehearsal on Thursday was no better. There was more than enough work and phone calls to provide him with a genuine excuse, and limiting his time in London was probably wise. But he thought about Anna having to constantly explain his absence, and he didn't want to put her through that. He didn't know how they would act around each other. Their most recent phone calls had been as stunted and abrupt as ever. Still, he missed her, wanted to see her, and so he flew over as scheduled.

"Alex."

He blinked at the sound of his name, thinking for a second that it must be some other woman seeking out some other Alex. Stopping in his tracks, he took his earphones out slowly as he watched the petite blonde coming towards him.

"Hi," Anna said, smiling politely.

"Hi," he replied guardedly. "What are you doing here? I thought I was getting you from Painswick House later?"

"I know, but I decided to meet your flight," she explained, glancing down at the floor as her voice grew quieter. "I didn't have anything planned today and so I thought it would be a good idea to see you earlier, so we could spend some time together."

He reached forward and took her face in his hands. She looked up at him with scared eyes, pursing her lips as she stepped towards him.

"Thank you for coming," he said softly, leaning down and kissing her.

She kissed him back, her arms going around his waist. When they opened their eyes, there was a bit more life inside both of them.

"Come on," he said, smiling and taking her hand in his. "I rented an Aston Martin."

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, August 15, 2017**

They stayed quiet at first, each of them more preoccupied with their tea than with each other. The room was silent. Eaton Square was usually empty in the afternoons and this part of the house was set back from the street. Neither of them looked at the art, or out the windows, or even at the tiered plates of scones and small pastries. Their full attention was turned to their tea cups.

"How is Matthew?" Cora asked, not looking up.

"Fine," Mary replied, still looking down as she took a sip of tea.

"Isobel tells me that he's having a lovely time filming in Spain," Cora added.

"He is," Mary confirmed.

"What's the name of his co-star again?" Cora asked.

"Rooney Mara. She was in _Carol_ with Cate Blanchett," Mary said.

"Oh, right," Cora replied. "She's absolutely gorgeous, and so talented. Wasn't she nominated for an Oscar?"

"Twice," Mary said curtly. "She won Best Actress at Cannes."

"Ah, yes. Well, that will be good for him to work with her," Cora noted.

Mary rolled her eyes.

"And who is that friend of his? The production assistant? She's working on the same film as well, isn't she? The ginger?" Cora asked.

"Lavinia Swire. They're not friends, not really," Mary replied, gritting her teeth.

"He was invited to her wedding, though. We sent her a gift for him. That would seem to be something a friend would do," Cora stated.

"He did that out of courtesy more than friendship. Shall I call Matthew to come over so you can ask him anything else?" Mary asked coldly.

Cora frowned and took a sip of tea. "Darling, I'm perfectly happy to continue on like this, but eventually we will have to get to the actual point of being here. You're the one who asked me to tea, I'll remind you."

Mary sighed and shook her head, finally meeting her mother's eyes.

"I'm just trying to understand," Mary said.

"What is there to understand?" Cora asked. "I love your father. He is a wonderful man and a very passionate lover. The way he…"

"I don't mean _that_!" Mary interrupted, bristling at the mental image of her parents even having sex, let alone a threesome with Jane Moorsum. "I'm trying to understand the attraction."

"Between your father and I?" Cora asked.

Mary shook her head.

"Ah, I see," Cora said, smiling as she took another sip of tea.

"She was your maid, Mum," Mary continued. "What made her so special? It isn't as if you had the same arrangement with any of the other servants, is it? Oh God! You didn't, did you?"

Cora blinked. "No, of course I didn't! Jane is unique. She's the only woman I've ever been with."

Mary shuddered, but nodded for her mother to go on.

"I knew from the beginning that there was an attraction, or more like an infatuation, from her towards me. I didn't mind it, and thought it was harmless. She was always so diligent in her work and was very good. She knew to ask about things that I needed for upcoming appointments, what my schedule would be, ways to make things easier around the house. She was so eager to please, and I liked that," Cora explained.

"She made you feel important, then," Mary said.

"Yes, but it was more than that. She made me feel adored. I looked forward to seeing her each day, even when we were just chatting about something meaningless. The way she looked at me. The way she smiled. The way she talked to me. It was very…" Cora said wistfully.

"Intoxicating," Mary suggested.

Cora smiled and nodded. "Very intoxicating. It felt wonderful."

"But there was surely a point where it became something far more than harmless. Didn't you think that Jane was getting obsessed with you? She obviously had feelings for her employer, unhealthy feelings, or at least extraordinary feelings," Mary struggled.

"I don't know if Jane was ever obsessed with me. She was the one who left us in the end. I would agree that she was devoted to me, completely so. I believed there wasn't anything I couldn't ask of her. She would do whatever I wanted without question," Cora said pleasantly.

Mary swallowed nervously. "Including becoming your lover."

Cora smiled and looked down at her tea. "Yes. But then I thought you didn't want to talk about that?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "I just want to understand how you could entertain the…thought…of doing…that. Jane was obsessed with you, or attracted to you, whatever. You didn't need to act upon it."

Cora nodded and kept her daughter's perplexed gaze. "I was curious. I had never thought about anything like that before, but the more I did, the more exciting it seemed."

Mary cringed, but didn't interrupt.

"I actually felt quite silly at first, even thinking about it, and I thought I would die from embarrassment when Jane finally told me that she did have feelings for me. I told her that I would never betray your father, and that was when the idea came to me. I never imagined she would agree, but then she always wanted to please me, so…"

"I get it, I get it," Mary said quickly. "So you were experimenting. And Dad was obviously willing to do the same."

Cora nodded. "It was thrilling, just acting so differently. I almost thought I was another person. There was just something so addictive about giving in to something so unknown, so outrageous. I loved it."

Mary's breath caught in her throat.

"Anyway, I'm sure you don't want the details, but just know that it wasn't because I was lacking anything in my marriage. Your father and I have grown closer because of it. I honestly believe that," Cora said firmly.

Mary hesitated, looking down at her tea. "Would you consider doing it again?"

Cora looked towards the windows, thinking on the question. "I don't think so. I don't believe what we shared could truly be repeated. Maybe if Jane were to raise it again, but I don't believe she wants to. It was a special moment in our lives and now it's over with."

Mary sipped her tea, pondering her mother's words. Certainly, the concept from her film was that Lily and Antoine did not end their relationship well, that being obsessed was the road to ruin. Was there a possibility that the ordeal could actually change a person for the better in some way? Was her mother describing some kind of liberation? Had what her parents done actually freed them somehow? Perhaps that was the same thing as the 'two Lilys' in the movie. The imaginary one who craved Antoine's attention and was his perfect muse, and the real one, who was scared and intimidated by his attraction to her. One never wanted the obsession to end. The other would never be able to forget it.

"Will this be a problem for us?" Cora asked.

Mary looked over at her mother's concerned face.

"I don't want it to be," Mary said finally.

Cora smiled. "That will have to do for now. Well, then, what about your film? How is that coming along?"

 **Savoy Suite, The Savoy Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, August 15, 2017**

Alex stared out the window at the dark waters of the Thames. The London Eye was lit up and stood large across the river. He saw the lights and shadows of bridges, Parliament, Big Ben and office buildings stretching into the distance. When he and Anna were married, they had stayed in this same suite, prior to it being renovated. They had loved the view back then, the vast expanse of London set out before them a bit of a good omen for beginning their life together. Big. A mix of traditional and modern. Full of possibility.

Tonight, he was staying in the adjoining junior suite, having left the immense master bedroom to Anna without a word. It had been over two months since they'd slept in the same bed, a month and a half since they'd even lived in the same house. He hated being so close to her and not being able to touch her, to hold her, but he had resolved to give her space, and so space she would get.

They had spent the afternoon walking around London and shopping, their conversation better than it had been in weeks. She kept them on safe topics - work, Lady Edith's wedding, the news from back in Canada and current events. They held hands as they went, but there was still a distance, a reluctance from her that he was all too aware of. He didn't have his wife back yet, but their brief sojourn here was off to a decent start. If they could have every day be like this until he flew out on Sunday, he would consider that a small step in the right direction.

He finished his brandy, the smooth drink doing little to relax him. He set the empty glass down on a side table and leaned against the window, staring out into space, wondering how long it would take him to get to sleep tonight. It was still early evening back home, and he was still wide awake.

"Alex?"

He turned his head and blinked in surprise at the sight of his wife coming into the bedroom. The room was dark, but for the glow from the lights outside. She came over to stand before him, looking up with nervous eyes.

Her hair was down, slightly curled and resting just past her shoulders. Her shoulders and arms were bare, the black lace corset raised her breasts and stopped at her waist, leaving a delectable strip of bare skin down to her black panties. He swallowed, watching as she reached out and placed her hands on his bare chest.

"Love," he said finally, his voice a low growl. "You don't have to do this."

Her lip quivered and she closed her eyes for a moment to steady herself. Leaning forward, she placed a kiss on his warm skin.

"I miss you," she said quietly, her eyes pleading with him now. "I miss you so much. I know I don't deserve it, but tonight can we just…can we please…I need you…I'll do anything you want…I just…"

He reached down and took her face in his hands, kissing her slowly and warmly. She sobbed against his mouth, returning his kiss, her hands going around his back to pull him closer.

"Tonight," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers. "Every night. I'll always want you, love. Always."

He picked her up and kissed her, their tongues played together as he carried her back to the master bedroom.

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, August 15, 2017**

"Have I ever told you what a genius you are?" Mary asked, laughing and licking Matthew's shoulder and neck.

"Mmm, even if you have, you haven't told me nearly enough," he replied, running his hand up her bare back.

"Well, deciding that we should take one of the basement rooms rather than stay upstairs was absolutely brilliant," she said, pressing her naked body against his.

"I try," he laughed in reply, lifting her chin and kissing her.

Mary's old bedroom upstairs had been taken over by her cousin Rose, and Rose's husband Atticus, who were in town for Edith's wedding. There was a mad scramble to make sure all the visiting guests had a place to stay, and that meant setting aside enough room for Sybil and Tom, Isobel and Violet, Aunt Rosamund, and other family staying over. Matthew had urged Mary to tell Cora that they would take the basement, which was really the old servants' quarters that had been converted into guest rooms in the last century. With Carson, Mrs. Hughes and other staff from Downton staying in the wedding hotel, the basement was conveniently empty. Matthew and his parents had stayed down here when he was younger, and he knew it would be perfect for them – their own suite that felt detached and apart from the rest of her family.

"Down here, we can be as loud as we want," she said mischievously. Her hand moved beneath the duvet and took hold of him, a pleased purr coming from her throat as she felt him swell at her touch.

"You seem determined to test that to the fullest extent tonight," he joked, groaning at the feeling of her fingers on him.

She laughed. She had been rather vocal over the past hour. Whether it was because she was confident no one could hear her, or whether she secretly wanted them to, she didn't know, but it was rather exciting to be as wanton as she wanted with him in her family home.

"Why not? Between my parents and my sisters, it seems I'm the prude of the family," she replied.

"I won't even ask what you're implying about Sybil and Edith," he said.

She laughed and kissed him. "You'll make sure that Bertie stays out of trouble tomorrow night, won't you?"

He looked at her with bright eyes. "I'll be as careful with him as you and Sybil will be with Edith. How's that?"

"Not very reassuring. We're going to get her absolutely hammered," she said. "And since Sybil can't drink, it'll be up to Rose and I to fill the void."

He laughed. "Darling, it's Bertie. Three drinks and he'll probably be ready to call it a night."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You might think so, but honestly the quiet ones are the most wild. When they really let loose, they can fly right off the deep end. It can become quite a disaster."

"He'll be fine. Between Charlie, Tom, Alex and I, I'm sure we can handle him," he said.

"And who's going to keep the rest of you lot out of trouble?" she questioned.

"Well I can't be expected to watch over all of them, surely?" he protested. "Tom will probably be so concerned about Sybil that he'll barely drink all night. Same goes for Alex. Charlie really isn't my responsibility, so there you have it."

"Fine. Who's watching over you, then?" she asked.

"What does it matter?" he asked, smiling at her. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I don't know, but I intend to get very drunk tomorrow night, so you had best be in full control of your faculties," she teased, stroking him slowly and kissing her way up to his ear. "Because when I get home, I am going to be very, very aroused, and if you're awake, you are going to get very, very lucky."

He grunted in surprise. "Well, it looks like it'll be Coke and bottled water for me all night then."

She laughed and kissed him. "See? Genius, I tell you."

He moved his hand down and spanked her lightly.

"Now, are we all set for the questions that we'll face at the wedding?" she asked.

He looked at her curiously. "Questions? Such as?"

"Well, most of the extended family knows that we're together," she explained. "You know that we're likely to hear 'you're up next' and 'now it's your turn' over and over again. That isn't even counting that I'll probably be shoved to the front when the bouquet is tossed."

"Maybe you will. No one will bother me, though. No one cares about me," he said easily.

She arched her eyebrow at him. "Well, I don't intend to leave your side all weekend, so if I get asked, you get asked."

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "Fine. 'You're up next'. 'Yes, I am.' There. Done."

She rolled her eyes. "And if some frightful great aunt corners you and demands to know if you're going to make an honest woman of me, or some other ancient belief?"

"Then I shall answer faithfully and truthfully," he said immediately. "It is my fervent wish to do so, yes."

"So very smooth you are," she said, kissing him and sliding her tongue against his. "You aren't worried at all, are you?"

"I'm in the wedding party of a woman that I consider a younger sister, and I get to spend a lovely few days in London with my gorgeous girlfriend, my mother and some of my very best friends. What is there to worry about?" he asked.

"I just don't want you to feel pressured into thinking about where we're headed, what our relationship is, how I might feel about the future. Weddings are always like that. They start out as fun parties until someone starts searching out all the single people and interrogating them as to why they aren't married yet," she said.

"I already know what our relationship is. I love you. You love me. We're together. That's more than enough," he said confidently.

She raised her head and looked at him. "I would expect you would be planning further ahead than that."

He smiled and looked at her with obvious desire. "Kiss me."

She arched her eyebrow, then shifted up and kissed him warmly.

He looked at her playfully when she settled back down against him. "I have a proposition for you."

She laughed. "Darling, I believe that you're supposed to proposition me before we actually make love. It's a bit late now."

He chuckled in response. "It's not that kind of proposition. We should make a movie together."

"A movie? We already made _Shattered_ ," she noted.

"Yes, but I mean a movie of our own this time. A film that we write, produce, and perform in – a project of our own," he explained.

"I wouldn't know where to begin to write a script, and neither do you," she said.

"Darling, every writer didn't know how to write a script until they wrote a script," he said easily. "I can write it. I've got plenty of ideas."

"Keep in mind that we want this supposed movie to have a rating below NC-17," she joked. "All of your ideas may not be appropriate."

"I have ideas beyond those for our private use, thank you," he said wryly. "What I meant was that we should make a movie together, and take on far more responsibility for it. That way, if we get through it, then we'll know there's nothing we can't face together. If it turns out to be a disaster, then we'll know that too."

She looked at him suspiciously. "And where will we get the money for such a venture?"

"Well, we need a concept and a script first, but once we develop that, I just so happen to know someone who is very well connected in film financing, and who might be willing to help me make my pitch, after he's done laughing hysterically, probably," he said.

"You're willing to stake our future on whether or not we can make a movie together?" she questioned.

"I'm willing to do what I can to show you that we are a very good team, and that we should live our lives together," he said.

She smiled and brought her leg over his, straddling him and leaning down to kiss him again. "I already know that we are very good together. And I will admit that your idea doesn't sound nearly as mad as I originally thought."

"So will you?" he asked, caressing her arms.

"I'll consider it," she replied. "At another time when I am far more capable of thinking clearly. Right now, it seems that I am powerless to resist you, Mr. Crawley. You must have fed me something when we were in Spain to put me in your thrall."

"I seem to recall that you're the one who did the cooking, actually," he retorted, sliding his hand down to her bottom. "And you must have slipped me something. I've always been enthralled with you, but lately it seems my stamina has been surprisingly enhanced."

She laughed and shook her head, raising up and grinding her hips against his. His hands reached up and fondled her breasts. Her eyes found his, their shared glance revealing all of their mounting lust.

"Think you can wake up the rest of the house this time?" he asked, leering at her.

"I can most definitely give it a go," she said, shifting her hips and moaning as she eased him inside.

* * *

 **Song Credit:**

 **Crazy -** K-Ci and JoJo, (2001), MCA


	12. Chapter 12

**Previously:**

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, August 15, 2017**

"So will you?" he asked, caressing her arms.

"I'll consider it," she replied. "At another time when I am far more capable of thinking clearly. Right now, it seems that I am powerless to resist you, Mr. Crawley. You must have fed me something when we were in Spain to put me in your thrall."

"I seem to recall that you're the one who did the cooking, actually," he retorted, sliding his hand down to her bottom. "And you must have slipped me something. I've always been enthralled with you, but lately it seems my stamina has been surprisingly enhanced."

She laughed and shook her head, raising up and grinding her hips against his. His hands reached up and fondled her breasts, both of them staring at each other with ever mounting lust.

"Think you can wake up the rest of the house this time?" he asked, leering at her.

"I can most definitely give it a go," she said, shifting her hips and moaning as she eased him inside.

 **Chapter 12:**

 **Harlequin Suite, The Dorchester Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, August 16, 2017**

The butler helped the room service staff clear the dishes off the dining table and move the carts out into the hallway. He shared a knowing smile with the staff before seeing them off down the hall to the service elevator. Before going back into the suite, he looked himself over, making sure his uniform was still spotless and immaculate. His guests seemed to be the type who cared about such formalities.

He had seen a number of high profile guests come through the largest and most lavish suite in the hotel during his time here – celebrities, politicians, professional athletes – but these ladies were on another level. Normally, Alain Ducasse, the hotel restaurant, didn't do bespoke, off-the-menu, made-to-order room service. Normally, the spa didn't shut down so that one group of guests had the entire run of the place for facials, manicures, pedicures, massages and hairstyling. Normally, guests weren't allowed to move furniture around, but the hotel had placed couches on the immense private terrace and opened up the French doors to the living room to create a large, open lounge space. Most of all, in all his years of working here, he'd never seen the largest suite reserved for a hen do. These ladies were decidedly not normal.

He recognized Lady Mary Crawley when they all arrived this morning. She wasn't as tall in person as he imagined, but she was even more elegant and beautiful than she was on-screen. He learned over the course of the day that they were all here for her sister, Lady Edith's hen night. He was pleasantly surprised to see them laughing and chatting away like a true group of friends despite the aristocratic grace and air that they all exuded. Dinner was absolutely hilarious. He and the staff had struggled to keep their composure through all the bawdy jokes, impromptu selfies and spontaneous singing. He went back in and checked that the dining room was restored to its original condition and that the rest of the suite was clean and organized. The ladies had moved out to the terrace to have drinks. He could hear the music playing and the group bantering away, but that wasn't a problem. The entire floor was empty tonight, save for them. They could be as raucous as they wanted, and he suspected that was by design.

"Never have I ever thought of another man while having sex," Rose declared, smiling as she looked around the circle of women sitting on couches around her. The night sky was just turning dark, the London skyline a beautiful backdrop for their after dinner drinks. Edith was wearing the tiara and 'Bride-to-be' sash that they had picked out for her, and they had moved on to drinking games to pass the time.

"That's an easy one," Sybil said, taking a sip of her cranberry and soda.

Mary rolled her eyes as the other ladies all laughed and shook their heads at Sybil's confession.

"What?" Sybil said defensively. "It's not my fault that he wanted some action after I finished a _Tudors_ marathon. He's damn lucky I didn't scream out 'Jonny' at any point."

"And that would be the tenth time Sybil's revealed far too much information to us tonight," Mary said wryly, smiling at Anna.

"You could use her for research. She's Antoine to Jonathan Rhys-Meyers' Lily," Anna joked.

Edith looked away and tried to surreptitiously sip her Lychee Martini.

"Lady Hexham! No! Not you!" Sybil exclaimed in shock.

Edith glared at her sister. "Don't call me that!"

They all laughed as Edith smiled sheepishly and her cheeks turned scarlet.

"I knew it!" Rose cackled, clapping her hands. "All right, out with it! Come on!"

Edith looked down at her lap and bit her lower lip. "It's not what you think. This one time Bertie made a sort of groan and it reminded me of that noise our piano teacher used to make when we wouldn't play a piece correctly. I don't know why, but I just immediately thought of him."

Mary and Sybil stared at each other incredulously before bursting out laughing.

"Mr. Fitzhenry?!" Mary sputtered. "God, how much did he weigh? 15 stone?"

"It had to be closer to 20," Sybil cried, hugging Rose with glee. "And that moustache! Oh God, well done, Edith. Well done."

Edith smirked and shook her head.

"So what happened? Surely the mood was ruined. Did you have to stop?" Rose asked cheekily.

Edith blushed furiously.

"Come on. Just out with it," Mary prodded.

Edith glared at her pointedly. "Well, no. I sort of yelped in shock, but he thought it was because of him, that I was enjoying it so much, so we just kept going. It actually wasn't bad at all in the end. I was quite determined to make sure we finished properly."

They all laughed and raised their glasses. All eyes then turned to Mary.

"What?" Mary demanded, frowning at their expectant faces.

"Really? You have to ask?" Edith asked sarcastically.

"Oh, bother," Mary muttered, taking a sip of her vodka and tonic to great applause.

"Obviously!" Rose cheered. "All right, details! You know loads of absolutely gorgeous blokes, so this will be delightfully filthy."

Mary scoffed in feigned indignation. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it's actually quite boring. When I used to film sex scenes with Henry, I would sometimes imagine I was with Matthew instead."

Anna frowned. "But the two of you didn't get back together until after Season 4 was shot. All of your scenes with Henry were before that."

Mary smirked and took another sip. "Exactly."

"You slut," Edith said. "Picturing Matthew at work when he was just your boy toy? Fuck."

Mary rolled her eyes as the rest of them laughed heartily. "All right, Anna, what about you?"

"Hey! What about me?" Rose asked.

"Everyone knows you're all talk," Sybil said dismissively.

Rose pouted as Sybil leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"Erm, no, I've never ever done that, no. I haven't pictured another man during sex," Anna said, shaking her head and looking down.

Mary watched her curiously for a moment.

"All right, darling, your turn," Rose said, nudging Sybil. "Make it a good one. We're not heading out to the club for at least another hour."

Sybil thought for a moment before smiling and nodding happily.

"Oh God, here we go," Edith said, glancing over at Mary knowingly.

"Never have I ever had sex while at work," Sybil said, grinning widely before taking a sip of her drink.

Mary frowned. "That's sometimes all I do."

Anna giggled.

"Actual sex, not simulated for the cameras," Sybil said.

"Does phone sex count?" Edith asked.

Sybil laughed and nodded enthusiastically.

"Actual sex at work, phone sex while at work, sexting, Facetime or online chat sex while one of you is at work, all of it counts," Rose explained.

"This is going to take a while," Mary said. She and Edith clinked glasses and each took a drink while Sybil went first in telling her sordid tale.

 **Club Room, The Old Bank of England pub, Fleet Street, London, England, August 16, 2017**

"I really don't know what I did, but all of a sudden, she just sort of yelped, and it was like she had become this insatiable she-devil," Bertie said dreamily. "It was absolutely incredible."

Charlie laughed and smacked his friend on the back.

Tom's eyes widened and he took a sip of his beer.

"Well, this night is going to live in my memory for a long time," Alex muttered to Matthew. "And that's not necessarily a good thing. I may have trouble looking at Edith the same way ever again."

"This is nothing," Matthew replied, shaking his head. "You should have seen what Tom revealed at his stag when he was drunk out of his mind. I cringed whenever Sybil kissed me for months after that."

"Oi, fuck off mate, yeah?" Tom said, frowning at Matthew.

They laughed and tapped their beer mugs together before taking another drink.

"I can't say that Tom got nearly as red as Bertie is now, though," Matthew noted, smiling as he looked at the drunken groom sitting at the other end of the long wooden table.

"Exactly," Tom said proudly. "Speaking of which, he needs another pint."

Tom got up from the table and headed out to the main bar to fetch their waitress.

"You all right? I haven't talked to you at all since you got in," Matthew asked, looking at Alex.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just a bit tired," Alex replied.

"Mary said that Anna was staying with you at The Savoy. That's good, right?" Matthew asked.

Alex nodded. "Yeah, it's been good. She's not back to normal yet, but we've both been making more of an effort so far and it's been good that way."

"Good. Maybe Edith's wedding is a nice distraction for both of you, take your mind off things and just have fun for a few days," Matthew suggested.

"I hope so. If she's feeling better then we can try and talk more and just work on things," Alex replied.

"It's too bad you're flying out so soon on Sunday. Do you have to go to Toronto? Why don't you go back to Paris with her? Spend some more time together?" Matthew asked.

"I wish. I don't want to push for too much so soon. She's making an effort and I think we'll be in a better place when she goes back to France," Alex said. "I'm just going to try and help her as much as I can without thinking about when we'll get back to where we were. I've got a few ideas. Hopefully they work."

Matthew nodded in understanding, dropping the subject. Tom clapped his hands and cheered as the waitress came in with a tray of beer mugs and set them down in front of Bertie.

 **Kensington Palace, Kensington Gardens, London, England, August 19, 2017**

"Who's idea was this, exactly?" Matthew whispered, leaning over towards Mary.

"Edith's," she replied quietly. "It's her tribute to Mum's American roots."

He blinked and nodded in understanding. "Well, I suppose that technically you all are half-American."

The crowd began clapping and cheering to the beat of the music as Sybil brought Edith over to sit down on a chair in the middle of the dance floor. Edith grinned and shook her head as Bertie approached, a goofy smile on his face. Edith started laughing as he kneeled down before her and slowly lifted the hem of her wedding dress to reveal a blue garter across her thigh.

"It seems we are," Mary said, shaking her head in disbelief. "This can't be a British tradition."

The guests whooped and hollered as Bertie leaned forward and took hold of Edith's garter with his teeth. She laughed and the bridal party cheered as he slowly pulled her garter down her leg, deliberately taking his time until he finally yanked it past the heel of her Jimmy Choo shoe and stood up triumphantly.

"Aren't you supposed to be out there to catch it?" Mary asked, smirking at him.

"I have no desire at all to catch your sister's garter," he said, frowning at her. "Besides, since you didn't bother making an effort to catch the bouquet, my fate was already sealed."

"I tried," she said defensively. "Daisy was just quicker to it than me, that's all."

He gave her a wry look. "You elbowed poor Sarah out of the way to allow Daisy to catch it."

"Well, I like Daisy more than Sarah," she said, arching her eyebrow at him.

He huffed and shook his head incredulously.

"I suppose it's better that we didn't catch the bouquet and garter, actually," he reasoned. "We wouldn't want to steal Edith's thunder."

"Darling, catching the bouquet and garter would not be stealing her thunder," she replied easily. "Being caught with me going down on you in one of the state rooms, however, now that would be stealing her thunder."

He choked on his Coke, covering his mouth as he coughed and hacked for several seconds. Thankfully, the loud music and cheering crowd masked his discomfort. Sybil shot him a confused look and he waved his hand to shake off her concern.

"All right there?" Mary asked lightly, a teasing smirk on her lips.

"Don't play with me," he warned. "I don't deserve it, not with you going back to Paris on Monday."

She chuckled and touched his arm in apology. "You're right. Better that we save any such escapades until we get back home."

He gave her a rueful smile and applauded as William, one of Edith's staff and Daisy's boyfriend, emerged from the scrum holding the coveted garter.

* * *

"Gin and pineapple juice, and a vodka and cranberry, please," Anna said, smiling and nodding to the bartender.

She turned and looked around while waiting for her drinks to be made. The Crawley family had taken over both the opulent Entrance Hall and the East Front Gardens to create a magical inside and outside space for Lady Edith's wedding reception. With the scrumptious dinner complete, they moved outside to dance under the stars. Large floral arrangements and hanging lanterns set a fairytale mood and it was heartwarming to see Edith and Bertie laughing and dancing and very much leading the festivities. Despite whatever issues they may still have internally, when it came time to put on a positive image for the paparazzi outside the gates and all the Society guests, the House of Grantham still banded together fiercely.

Her phone buzzed and she reached into her clutch to check it.

 _'How is the wedding of the year?'_

She smirked at Green's text. Shaking her head, she sent off a quick reply.

 _'Really fun! The Duke of York and his daughters are here!'_

She looked up and blinked in surprise as she saw Mary head on to the dance floor with Lord Grantham. Matthew followed with Mrs. Crawley. Matthew dancing with his mother was expected. Mary dancing with her father was not. She didn't expect an incident though. Mary had promised her that she would behave tonight for her sister's sake.

 _'Pics or it didn't happen.'_

She read Green's reply and scoffed. Scrolling quickly through her phone, she sent him a photo of her and Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie. They both were taller than she was, even wearing her Louboutins. She was used to meeting aristocrats at Mary's family functions, but this was the first time that she had met actual British Royalty. Mary had said something about William and Kate being unable to make it because they were out of the country, and Anna wasn't entirely sure she was joking or not.

 _'They look like their father. You look great. Have a good night.'_

She laughed at his cheek and said goodnight to him before putting her phone away.

"Gin and pineapple, vodka and cranberry," the bartender announced, setting the drinks out on the bar.

Anna smiled and thanked him. She tucked her clutch under her arm, picked up the drinks and headed back to Alex and their friends.

* * *

"Don't be so nervous, Dad. I won't embarrass you in front of all your guests," Mary said, arching her eyebrow at him as they turned about the dance floor.

Robert scoffed and gave her a wry smile. "I'm always delighted to dance with my daughter. I'm just surprised that Matthew let you out of his clutches long enough for us to take a turn."

She smiled and nodded. "He wanted to dance with Isobel, and I wanted to dance with you. You've already danced with Edith and Sybil. Don't I get a turn?"

He smiled and nodded. "Of course."

"I know that Mum must have told you about our chat from earlier this week," she noted.

"She did," he said tiredly. "I'm glad that you're coming around, even if it's just a little. I understand how you must be feeling, truly."

"I'm still working it out," she admitted. "But I'm not nearly as angry with you as I was in the beginning, so that's something."

He nodded in understanding.

"I haven't changed my mind, however," she said. "I still want you to transfer my money over."

"That is your right," he said slowly. "I suppose I haven't been the best of caretakers."

"It isn't that," she said, offering him an olive branch. "You've done very well. It was because I trusted you that I was able to focus on my career and not worry about the money at all these past years. But I'm older now and I must take responsibility for my own life, make my own decisions. I can't keep relying on you, either for your title, your name, or your management. I must go forward on my own, Dad. I have to, for me."

He sighed and nodded. "Are you sure this isn't something that Matthew has put you up to? He's always been espousing the need to be independent."

She frowned. "I think history has shown that I hardly ever do anything that he says. He does believe that I should have more power over my own fortune, but that's not why I'm doing this."

"Very well," he relented. "I'll have it arranged."

"Thank you," she said, continuing their dance.

"I must say that I always imagined your wedding would be in a grand palace such as this," he mused. "I'm very pleased for Edith, but I must say that all three of your lives have not unfolded exactly as I expected."

She smiled, catching a glimpse of Matthew as they turned. "I don't think any of us have done what's expected, but that's a good thing. I should hate to be predictable."

* * *

"How are you holding up?" Isobel asked, smiling as she followed Matthew's lead.

"I'm fine. Isn't that a question for Bertie?" Matthew asked, smiling down at his mother.

She smiled and nodded. "I simply ask because this is the first wedding since you and Mary got back together, and it's a rather grand one at that."

He smirked. "You think that I should be wistful."

"I think that I wouldn't blame you for becoming a touch nostalgic, yes," she confirmed.

"Well, you can relax, as can anyone else who thinks that being at a posh wedding with Mary will have me crying in my champagne over what might have been," he said easily. "I won't go so far as to say that I'm glad that everything played out as it did these past five or six years, but I know that I'm happy the way things are now, and that's what's important. 'One must work with time and not against it'."

She smiled. "You remembered that one from your father."

"He stole it from Ursula Le Guin, but yes," he agreed.

They continued dancing in easy silence. He looked over at Mary dancing with Robert and was glad they both seemed to be smiling.

* * *

"Oh shit," Sybil muttered, wincing slightly and rubbing her back.

"Are you all right?" Anna asked, looking over at her in concern.

Sybil waved her hand. "It's all right. I've just had a bit of a backache for the past week or so. It's perfectly normal after six months, but that doesn't make it any easier."

"Is there something we can do to help?" Alex asked.

"Oh, I'm fine, really," Sybil said.

"Here you go, hon," Tom said, coming over and handing her a glass of apple juice.

"Sybil's got a backache," Alex said.

Tom looked at his wife with concern. "Is it getting any worse?"

"No, no, it's fine, really," Sybil said. "I just have to watch how I stand."

"Well don't keep standing. Just sit down. Come on," Tom said, taking his wife by the arm and leading her over to a nearby table. Alex and Anna followed, wondering if they should do anything.

Sybil sighed as she sat down. Tom took the seat next to her and reached for her legs.

"Tom! Not here!" Sybil said, frowning at him.

He shot her a warning glare, then set her feet on his lap and calmly removed her shoes. Holding one foot in his left hand, he began massaging with his right, starting from her calf, going down across her ankle and down to her sole.

"Mmm," Sybil hummed, giving him a wry smile. "I hate my feet. They're so swollen now."

Tom chuckled and continued his ministrations. "Your feet are beautiful, just like the rest of you, and I intend to show you just how beautiful you are when we get back to our room."

Sybil laughed. "Control yourself. My parents are here."

He quirked his eyebrows at her mischievously. They continued talking in hushed whispers, smiling and teasing each other.

Anna watched them closely. At six months, Sybil was now obviously showing, though her bump wasn't overly large given her lithe body. She felt a twinge in her stomach as Tom continued massaging his pregnant wife's feet, the two of them looking at each other adoringly. Sybil's one hand rested on her belly, and a playful smile crossed her lips, enjoying her husband's attentions. They looked so lovely, Anna thought. Husband and wife, so in love, so eager to welcome their child into the world. Mary had mentioned that they were already considering baby names for their unborn daughter. Apparently Sybil was pushing for 'Chloe' or 'Emma' and Tom wanted something even more Irish like 'Orla' or 'Siobahn'.

"Want to dance, love?" Alex asked.

Anna nodded and let him lead her over to the dance floor, her eyes remaining on Sybil and Tom for a few moments longer.

* * *

The guests began leaving about an hour after dinner was finished, staying long enough to see Edith change into her second evening gown. First were Society friends of Cora's who were there to say they were and various work colleagues of Edith's and Bertie's. Extended family members headed out closer to eleven, the older ones back to their hotels to sleep, the younger ones to find another party to go to. Finally, around midnight, most of the rest said their goodbyes to the newlyweds, including their parents, Isobel and Violet, Rose and Atticus and Anna and Alex. The dessert table was still quite full, the popular chocolate fountain and waffle station having been replenished numerous times throughout the evening. Matthew, Charlie, and Tom went around the room with Bertie to make sure the gift table was sorted and there was nothing left behind at any of the tables. Edith walked outside with her sisters, wandering the grounds and over to the Orangery, the warm night air pleasant and comfortable.

"You can go, you know," Edith said to Sybil. "Don't stay if you're feeling tired."

"I'm fine," Sybil huffed. "Besides, we're not going to sleep when we get back to the room."

Mary laughed and shook her head ruefully.

"What's her count at now?" Edith asked Mary.

"I stopped keeping track at 30, and that was three days ago," Mary said.

"Haha," Sybil said sarcastically. "Let's not pretend that the two of you aren't going to be having sex tonight as well, so spare me the false outrage, please."

They all shared a knowing smile.

"So, how does it feel to be a Marchioness, officially?" Mary asked.

"I'm still getting used to the idea of being someone's wife," Edith admitted, giggling happily. "I doubt anything will change until we get to Brancaster."

"Two months in Asia. God, you lucky bitch," Sybil grumbled.

"I'll be back in time for when the baby comes, don't worry," Edith said.

"She'll probably be pregnant herself by then, too," Mary joked.

They all laughed and shared another knowing glance.

"Well, did you survive? I didn't see too many people bothering you or Matthew," Edith asked.

Mary smiled. "It wasn't much of a hassle, no. I think I had maybe six people ask me when was it going to be my turn? Of course, a number of the guests still think I'm single, so that probably helped."

"Well, when is it, then?" Sybil asked.

Mary rolled her eyes. "I don't know, to be honest. But, if I'm being honest, I also have to admit that the idea is becoming more and more appealing all the time."

Sybil squealed and clapped her hands.

"Don't you dare mention that to Matthew," Mary warned.

"As if she even needs to," Edith said cheerfully. "He knows he's breaking down your resistance."

Mary sighed and shared a conspiratorial smile with her sisters. "Yes, he's becoming shockingly skilled at that, I must say."

They stopped and turned to head back, the vast grounds stretching out before them to Hyde Park and the city beyond. Without a word, the three sisters linked hands in a small circle.

"Congratulations, darling, truly," Mary said, smiling at Edith. "Today was magnificent, and everything that you deserved."

Edith smiled and bit her bottom lip, her eyes tearing up.

"God, don't you get me started now," Sybil complained, sobbing herself.

"I love you both. Thank you so much for being here for me today," Edith cried, pulling them into a hug.

They stayed in that embrace for several moments before composing themselves and returning to the Entrance Hall so they could get ready to leave.

 **Savoy Suite, The Savoy Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, August 20, 2017**

Alex smiled as he watched Anna standing over his suitcase, checking yet again that he had everything packed for his flight back to Toronto. Now on the verge of being separated again, he felt far more confident than he had when she left over a month ago. The past few days had been good, all things considered. They had started out tentative and reserved, and there was still a hint of that between them, yet they had also slept together each night, danced together at Edith's wedding and made love this morning. She had made an honest effort to spend as much time with him as her schedule allowed, and he appreciated that. When he flew over, he was afraid that they would still act like mere acquaintances, accompanying each other to the wedding more out of obligation than anything else. He didn't have his wife back yet, but she seemed more herself than she had in months.

"Wallet, passport, Nexus card and keys," she called.

"In my carry-on," he answered easily.

She turned to his wheeled travel bag and checked that everything was in the outside pocket.

"Your flight's on time last I checked," she said, turning towards him. "You're already checked-in and the boarding pass in on your mobile, so you just need to check your bag and go through."

"Love, this isn't my first flight," he teased.

She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry. Force of habit."

He nodded and took her in his arms. "I know. I like your habits."

He kissed her lightly and held her close.

"Mmm," she sighed. "This week has flown by."

"Yeah, but it was a good week," he replied.

"Yeah, it was," she agreed.

"Love, I want you to do something for me when you get back to Paris. There's someone I want you to meet," he said.

She drew back and looked up at him. "Who?"

"Her name is Carol Kirby. She comes highly recommended. She has a psychiatry practice in Paris and is affiliated with Paris Diderot University, specializing in postnatal and women's issues," he said.

She blinked and stared at him in disbelief. "You want me to go see a shrink?"

"I think doctor or therapist is a better term," he replied. "She's someone you can talk to, someone who can help."

"Help?" she exclaimed, stepping away from him. "Help me with what?"

He frowned in confusion. "You know with what. Love, it's been almost three months now and you're making good progress, but you can use some support, professional support. You don't have to try and cope on your own."

"Coping on my own has worked just fine so far," she retorted. "You just said we had a good week!"

"And we did have a good week," he agreed. "But we haven't talked, not really talked, and since we're going to be apart for another two months, I thought it would help you to have someone besides Mary or your mum that you can talk to about what you're going through. It's sometimes easier to deal with someone completely removed from the situation."

"I don't need to see a doctor," she said pointedly. "I know what happened. I don't need to rehash it, or be poked and prodded by some stranger who's constantly asking me about my feelings."

He shook his head. "She's not going to 'poke and prod' you. She's going to help you get over the issues you're having so that you can feel better about yourself."

"The issues I'm having?" she questioned. "I lost a baby. It's a bit much to expect me to be all chipper and sunny days even now, don't you think?"

He paused and held his hands up in an offer of truce. "Dr. Kirby isn't there to cheer you up. She's there to help you deal with what happened and go forward so that you won't be so afraid the next time."

Her eyes went wide. "The next time?" she said slowly.

"Yeah, the next time," he said. "It's been three months. Dr. Ryder said there was no problem trying again after a month."

The blood seemed to drain from her face. "What? You want to try again? After everything that happened?"

He blinked. "Yeah, for sure I want to try again. Why wouldn't we?"

"I already told you that I can't!" she shouted, staring at him in shock. "I can't go through that again! I thought you understood that!"

"I do understand," he said calmly. "I understand how hard this has been for you. It's been hard for me, too."

"Don't you dare say that you're going through anywhere near the pain that I am!" she hissed. "God, was that what this whole week was to you? You came here to make love to me just to try and get me pregnant again?"

His eyes went wide. "No! How can you even think that? You're the one who came to me!"

"I came to you because I needed my husband! I came to you because I wanted to be with you without any pressure or expectations! I came to you because you told me that I was enough for you on my own!" she said bitterly.

"You are enough for me on your own," he pleaded.

"Obviously I'm not if you just want to send me to a doctor to fix me so I can give you children!" she snapped.

"We want children!" he countered, his voice rising now, too. "You want children. I know you do. What happened was horrible, but it doesn't mean that's it. It doesn't mean we have to give up."

She turned away and shook her head, shutting her eyes as the tears fell down her cheeks.

"Anna," he said, stepping towards her.

They were both interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

She didn't move. He sighed and went to answer it.

"Good morning, Mr. Lewis!" the bellman said cheerfully. "How many bags are you taking to Heathrow today?"

Alex took a moment to calm himself. "Those two there," he said, pointing into the room and stepping aside.

"Perfect! I'll take care of these for you," the bellman said, going into the room and taking Alex's luggage. "Will that be all? Are you all set to go?"

Alex looked over to the living room. Anna had already gone into the master bedroom and closed the door behind her.

"Yeah, I'm good," Alex said tightly. He put on his shoes and headed out to the hallway, the door closing firmly behind him.

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, August 20, 2017**

Violet frowned and squinted slightly, leaning forward and peering at the large television screen.

"And the name of Edith's husband is?" she muttered.

"Bertie," Mary replied, nodding and watching her closely. "He's the Marquess of Hexham, Granny."

Violet blinked and stared at the video from Edith's wedding for a moment. She eventually nodded slowly. "Bertie. Hmm. Well, Edith is a Marchioness."

"Yes, that's right," Isobel said. "They'll live in London mostly, but his family home is at Brancaster in the North."

Violet's eyes brightened. "Brancaster! Why, we went there, didn't we? Lord Hexham invited us. Peter. Yes, Peter Pelham."

Mary shared a smile with her mother, who was sitting on the opposite sofa next to Isobel. "That's right, Granny. Bertie is Peter's grandson," she said.

"Goodness!" Violet said, shaking her head. "Well, that's quite nice. Brancaster is a fine home."

They all shared a smile as they continued to watch the video. The Dowager Countess' short term memory was essentially lost, and she had difficulty recognizing anyone beyond family members, however her ability to communicate was still stable, and her recall of older memories was still somewhat reliable. She and Isobel would often listen to music from decades past that helped coax different memories forward, and there were still certain scents – perfumes and foods – that she remembered from her childhood at Downton Abbey.

"Oh, good Heaven!" Violet exclaimed suddenly. "Is that me?"

Mary covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"Yes, you danced with Matthew," Isobel explained as they all watched the two of them on the dance floor. They didn't so much dance as they just moved about in a bit of square, but they were both smiling.

"Not that dreadful foxtrot or black bottom, I should hope," Violet huffed.

They all laughed at how silly and yet, how typical it all was. The dance that they were watching happened less than 24 hours ago, and Granny didn't remember it at all, but rather than allow that to bother her, or even wonder why she can't remember it, she just accepted it, as normal and ordinary as the weather suddenly turning overcast, or the dinner starter course being changed from soup to salad. It's so pragmatic and such a Granny thing to do, and it made everyone feel happy and sad in equal measure.

"I'm tired," Violet announced suddenly when the dance on the television ended. The video cut to following the bridal party around as they toasted with different groups of friends and family. Mary had the videographers just give her whatever rough footage they could so she could show it to Granny today, and whether the Dowager Countess grew bored of it or not, this particular showing was deemed over.

"We should rest a bit before dinner," Isobel said, looking to Cora for support. Lady Grantham patted her hand affectionately and rose from the sofa, the signal for Mary to do the same.

"Certainly, Mama. We'll see you at dinner," Cora said kindly, and with that, she and Mary left Isobel and Violet to their nap.

"I need to go and supervise the kitchen staff," Cora said as they walked down the hall. "Remember to dress appropriately. Tom's sister and her family are joining us."

"Does that mean we're dressing casual?" Mary asked, smirking when her mother gave her a wry frown. "Semi-formal it is."

She turned down another hallway and took the back stairs to the basement to get to her and Matthew's suite. Closing the door behind her, she walked through the sitting room and into the bedroom. Taking in her boyfriend's sleeping form, she sat down next to him on the bed and spanked him.

"Hmph," Matthew groaned, reaching out blindly and taking her hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers. "How's Violet?"

"Very good, actually," Mary stated. "She enjoyed the wedding video, including your dance."

"Mmm, Crawley women seem to enjoy being in my arms," he said lazily, eyes still closed.

She rolled her eyes and took her hand back. "Tom's sister and her family are coming for dinner. You'll need to wear your suit, but tie is optional."

"All right," he mumbled. "When is Anna getting here?"

"Oh, she cancelled, actually," she replied. "She'll come by tomorrow before we leave for the airport."

He blinked and opened his eyes. "Really? Is she going over to her mum's then?"

"I don't know. She didn't say," she answered, shrugging her shoulders. "She has been over here every day for the past week. It may just be she needs a break from us. I certainly would if I was her."

"Hmm," he muttered, considering her answer.

"Did you have a good time yesterday?" she asked lightly.

He smiled at her. "I had a very good time, yes. And the wedding and reception were fun, too."

She huffed and smiled. "Naughty. I was referring to the wedding."

"Ah. Well, for the record, I had a very good time after we got back from the wedding," he said, giving her a bold look. "As for the wedding, yes, it was great. I thought Edith and Bertie were quite happy with it all, which is what counts the most."

"Yes, it was a nice beginning to their life together," she agreed, looking down at the duvet.

He glanced at her curiously. "Why?"

"Well, I assume that you enjoyed yourself more at this wedding as compared to Alex's, is all," she remarked.

He frowned in confusion. "Oh, I don't know. Alex and Anna's wedding was quite fun, too. I had more responsibilities, of course, but it was still a good time."

"Yes, that's true," she said evenly.

He smirked as understanding dawned upon him. "You think that I didn't enjoy myself as much at Alex's wedding because we weren't together."

She arched her eyebrow before meeting his gaze. "Didn't you?"

"Didn't you?" he retorted.

She frowned. "I asked you first."

He chuckled and sat up, leaning over and lifting her chin with his fingers. Holding her gaze, he smiled and caressed her cheek.

"You would think that it would have been torture to be next to you and know that I had no place in your heart anymore," he began. "I was nervous beforehand, and despondent afterwards, but during…during that entire day and night, we talked, and laughed. Through the ceremony, and the photos, and the reception, the dinner, the speeches, the dancing, we were together. I got to see you smile, we walked up and down the aisle together, and we danced, and I held you, and everything was all right again. For those ten, twelve hours, or whatever, I was happy."

She covered his hand with hers, turning her head and kissing his palm.

"That was very sweet of you to say, but you're wrong," she said softly.

"About what?" he asked.

"You still had a place in my heart," she said, looking at him intently. "I tried to deny it, hoped that I wouldn't feel anything for you, but I did. Darling, I so did. I distracted myself well enough with my maid-of-honour duties and attending to Anna, but when we were sitting together at the head table, when we danced, I kept wondering why I had let you go."

He grinned and kissed her.

"Interesting. So the first seeds of our scandalous liaisons were planted at Alex's wedding, were they?" he joked.

She laughed and nodded. "I did take notice of your improved body when we were dancing."

He kissed her lightly, shifting towards her. "I should have been more confident, more take charge. Maybe if I had suggested we take a stroll outside the ballroom, you would have been amenable?"

She kissed him back. "Maybe."

He kissed her again. "And maybe I could have invented some excuse to bring you up to my room."

She closed her eyes and smiled as his lips moved to her neck. "And maybe I would have fallen for it, knowing full well what you intended for me once we got up there."

"Mmm, and maybe," he continued, easing her on to her back, her arms going up to circle his shoulders and pull him down to her. "Once we were alone in my room, I would have tried to kiss you."

Her hand moved down his front and grasped him through his trousers. She smiled at his groan of pleasure at her touch.

"Maybe I would have let you kiss me, then asked you if that was all you had planned for me," she teased.

"I suppose we'll never know what would have happened had we given it a go," he said, sliding his tongue past her lips and deftly unbuttoning her shirt with his fingers.

"I think I could hazard a reasonable guess," she whispered, tugging his belt free and undoing his trousers.

 **Beaufort Bar, The Savoy Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, August 20, 2017**

"Another, please," Anna said, sliding her empty glass towards the bartender.

The bartender blinked and nodded, impressed by how much this petite blonde could handle. "Another Blue Angel. Yes, ma'am."

She sighed and looked down at the bar, spinning the coaster around idly with her finger. The gin and champagne cocktail was cold and smooth, and the small scoop of lemon sorbet added a hit of flavour and sweetness. She didn't care too much for the subtleties, however. It was sweet and strong, that was enough.

The bar had live entertainment each night, this evening's being a jazz trio. The woman's voice wasn't bad, and they favoured more swing tunes than haunting blues. Anna ignored them for the most part, the music being just background noise to her stupor.

"Blue Angel," the bartender announced, placing the glass in front of her. "Can I get you any food, ma'am? That's your third tonight. We have a tasty Wagyu tartare with caviar, and braised oxtail with foie gras. They're both delicious."

"I'm fine, thanks," she replied, sliding her drink towards her. "I had dinner plans tonight, but I called them off to come here."

"Ah," he said. "Didn't want to hang out with whoever you were supposed to have dinner with, hey?"

"No, no, it wasn't that," she said. "I just wasn't feeling up to showing up and pretending to be happy."

He nodded. Working in this place, he'd seen plenty of beautiful people drown their sorrows at the bar, but he was still surprised whenever someone like her came in. From her designer dress, high heels and the diamond ring on her finger, she didn't seem like she should have too many troubles, especially not the kind that had her drinking alone on a Sunday night.

"Well, if you're fed up with putting on an act for others, I can have the concierge find a club or lounge for you," he suggested. "Don't get me wrong, I'm more than happy serving you if you decide to stay, but maybe what you need is a night out without any expectations."

She took a long sip of her drink, then set her glass down and looked up at him curiously. "You think so?"

He shrugged his shoulders. There were plenty of other things he could suggest, but he didn't want to chance it. One more guest complaint was just what he needed right now.

"I'm just saying that you seem a bit down, and you said you didn't feel like going to that dinner where people would be wanting you to act a certain way. So, if you want to just forget yourself for a while, there's some places you can go," he said, trying to sound casual.

She looked down and pondered his words. "Thanks. I'm all right, but I'll keep that in mind."

"Sure," he said, smiling at her. He left her and went to serve another guest.

She sipped her drink, not paying attention to anyone or anything around her. After a while, she took her phone out of her purse and set it down on the bar, staring at it while she took another sip.

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, August 20, 2017**

"God, they're finally gone!" Sybil groaned, slumping back on the sofa and putting her feet up on the ottoman.

Mary exchanged bemused looks with Matthew. "Darling, you do realize that you're going to have a Branson child of your own quite soon, don't you?"

Sybil rolled her eyes. "I love my sister-in-law, honestly I do, and her kids are adorable, but sometimes they can be a real handful. I've been with them since this afternoon and I'm absolutely knackered."

"That's why you sent Tom to see them home," Matthew noted with a smile.

Sybil put one hand on her forehead and the other on her belly. "God, I so hope she ends up more English than Irish."

Mary chuckled at that.

"Maybe you'll luck out and she'll be more American," he suggested.

"That's not helping, not even a little bit," Sybil said, glaring at him.

He shook his head and laughed.

"Anyway, have you both decided where you'll go after you're done filming? Please say Toronto or New York," Sybil asked.

Mary looked at Matthew questioningly. "I haven't even thought about it, actually. I could just come back here, I suppose."

"Or you could come to Toronto. I've still got my place," he said.

She smiled at him. "That is an option, yes. A lot will depend on what comes up next. I haven't even thought about my next project. This one's barely halfway through."

"Same here," Matthew agreed. "I was contemplating taking a few months off, actually, to brainstorm and write."

"Write?" Sybil repeated.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Matthew fancies himself a screenwriter now. He wants to come up with a film that we can both be in together."

"And produce together," he added.

Sybil's eyes lit up. "Ah! That's brilliant!"

Mary scoffed.

"See? Sybil thinks it's a great idea," he said smugly, smiling at her.

"I never said it wasn't. I am just not in the habit of committing to anything without seeing the script first. Not to mention we don't have a director either," Mary replied.

"Couldn't one of you direct it?" Sybil asked.

He grinned at Mary.

"Don't get him started, Sybil," Mary said pointedly. "Next thing you know, he'll say he can handle all the catering himself as well."

"I could always ask your mum if she can spare Mrs. Patmore and her staff for a few months," he said.

Sybil laughed.

Mary rolled her eyes.

"Anyway, since a script is required to convince Mary to come onboard, I might take some time off to create a story that is so remarkable that she just can't say no," he declared. "I could write anywhere, really, so I wouldn't have to go back to Toronto, but it's nice to have a place there already."

"Oh, say you'll think about it, darling, please," Sybil implored her sister. We won't be able to come back for the holidays this year, so it'll be good to have you close by."

Mary sighed and settled against Matthew on the sofa. "Darling, when the baby comes, Edith and I will be right over, you don't need to worry about that. As for this supposed Oscar-winning script that hasn't even been conceived yet, I will repeat what I have said all along – that I am not against it, but am reserving judgment at the moment."

"As long as that's not a firm 'no', that's fine with me," he said confidently, putting his arm around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head.

Sybil smiled, watching them lounging together, completely at ease with each other.

 **Flat of Alexander Green, Chelsea, London, England, August 20, 2017**

Green smiled and looked at his laptop. He took a drink of beer, switching between various applications as he went about his usual routine of checking email, watching videos, and browsing different websites. He brought up the available flights from London to Paris and cross-referenced the schedule against his calendar. Tony's run at the Royal Court Theatre was ending in another month. When they were back in London, he wasn't required as much as when they were on the road, so his free dates were beginning to open up. He wasn't sure how much longer Anna would be in Paris, but he expected he had at least until the end of September to make his move. It had been a long time in coming, involving a great deal of patience on his part, but he felt he was getting very close. She was comfortable with him now, had kept in regular contact all summer, and, according to Edna, her husband had not visited her once in France. Everything was falling into place. She was lonely, isolated, repressed, and vulnerable. It was a perfect storm just waiting for him to pounce.

His plans had changed so much in the months since Tony and Mabel had assigned Anna to him. After getting to know her more, he now felt there was a curiosity inside of her that he could exploit. He would still need the drugs to seal the deal, but there was a darkness within her, a small, reckless side that wondered what it would be like to be with him, wondered what all the women he had paraded in front of her back in Toronto saw in him, wondered what he was capable of. He knew that in her right mind, she would never act upon impulse, but she trusted him enough now that she wouldn't have her guard up, and that was all the opening he would need.

He felt a jolt of arousal at the thought of fucking her in her Paris apartment. He would record the entire thing, both for posterity and his own security. The cocaine and stimulants would have her babbling all manner of scandalous words, and mixed with her screams, would become his new favourite soundtrack.

Grinning now, he took his earphones out and placed them on his desk. He grabbed his empty bottle and went down the hall, past the bedroom, the bathroom, through the living room and into the kitchen for a fresh beer. Just as he opened the fridge, a knocking at his front door drew his surprised attention.

"What the fuck?" he mumbled, closing the fridge and heading out to the foyer. It was almost ten at night. Who could it be? When he looked through the eyehole, he almost sputtered in shock. He quickly unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hi," Anna said.

"Hi," he replied, not hiding his surprise. "Come on in."

She smiled and entered, the scent of perfume and a slight hint of alcohol wafting up to him when she passed. His pulse jumped, a million thoughts running through his mind as he led her into the living room.

"I was just having a beer. What can I get you?" he asked, heading into the kitchen. He tried to think fast, wondering what he had in his flat that he could use on her.

"Surprise me," she said, hanging out at the doorway.

He looked over his shoulder and gave her a confident smirk. "Sure."

He got himself a beer, then poured her a Grey Goose and orange juice. Carrying their drinks, he went back out to the living room and over to the sofa. She followed and took her drink before sitting down. He joined her.

"Cheers," he said, clinking his bottle with her glass. He watched her take a sip, his mind working. He didn't have his usual stash since he didn't think he would need it until he went to visit her in Paris. He might have some painkillers in the bathroom, but that wasn't enough, and it would be awkward to go and get them, bring them back to the living room and slip them into her next drink.

"This is a nice place," she noted, looking around the room. "It's better than your apartment back in Toronto."

He laughed. He leaned forward to put his beer on the coffee table and used the opportunity to press his leg against hers so she could feel his body heat. "I told you. I was only there for six months so I didn't feel the need to put any effort into decorating. This place here is home. I'll give you a tour in a bit. It's very impressive."

She chuckled and took another drink, a shiver running down her spine as she tried to ignore all the thoughts on the periphery of the haze in her head. The cocktails at the hotel bar had lowered her good sense enough to bring her here, and she hoped the buzz would last long enough to keep her conscience at bay.

"I'll give you a chance, but given all of your talk, it had best be quite impressive," she said, smirking at him.

"Don't worry. You'll be more than satisfied," he replied easily.

Part of him wondered if she was drunk enough that he could just make his move now. She had come to his flat unannounced, wearing a rather tight dress and expensive high heels to boot, and he suspected she was quite drunk already. However, the signals she was giving off was that she wanted to fool around at most, maybe to finally see what it felt like to behave badly. A few heated kisses and she would come to her senses and escape in a flood of apologies, with a text the next day saying that 'it should never have happened' and 'we're colleagues, nothing more'.

No, he needed the drugs. The high she would feel would get her addicted, and pairing it with sex would link the two in her mind, turning her into his slave, having her come back over and over, willing to do anything to experience that euphoria again. He planned multiple nights for her in Paris to make sure she would be entirely his by the end of it. Risking all of that for a brief encounter now would render all of his previous work useless.

"I wish you had texted me before you came over, though," he said, maintaining a friendly tone. "I just have to step out for a bit, but it won't take long."

"Oh," she said, frowning slightly as she stared at her drink.

"Don't worry. I'll be a half hour at most," he said, placing his hand on her knee to draw her attention. He looked confidently into her eyes. "Stay. I'll be right back and I'll give you that tour. I'll show you everything you want."

Her lips parted upon hearing his words. She nodded slowly. "All right."

"Great," he said, leaning over and kissing her cheek quickly. "Half an hour."

She watched him get up and head to the door. Her eyes drifted down to his ass without her even realizing it. He was soon gone and she took another sip of her drink, her pulse beating quickly.

* * *

The second Green was out the door, he took out his phone and dialled quickly while he walked. As usual, his man picked up on the second ring.

"Hi. I need an emergency order. My usual. Right now," Green said tersely. "Yeah, yeah, I'll pay the premium, whatever. Get it together, meet me at the usual spot in 20 minutes."

He hung up the call. Walking down the street, he called for a taxi and kept going towards the busier corner up ahead.

* * *

Anna placed her empty glass on the coffee table and sat back. She rubbed her hands together nervously, looking around the living room, taking in the art on the walls and the contemporary furniture. There was a lack of warmth to the space, the main colours being blacks, greys and dark navy blues. Unfeeling with a bit of an edge, just like the man who lived here.

She closed her eyes and shivered. She knew she shouldn't be here, knew what showing up suddenly at his doorstep meant. He was a man, after all, and one who had plenty of experience with meaningless hook-ups with women.

She opened her eyes and leaned forward, her stomach rolling. She didn't want to think about anything, but she did anyway. Her fight with Alex from earlier today came to mind, and that made her think about the past two months of living without him, which in turn brought her back to that horrible late night at the end of May when her beautiful life had come crumbling down.

She staggered to her feet, clutching her stomach as she felt herself gag. Stumbling down the hall, she managed to find his bathroom just in time to throw up in the toilet. Leaning against the sink, she closed her eyes and waited for her head to clear a bit, her throat burning. Drinking four gin and champagne cocktails on an empty stomach was apparently not a great idea.

When she opened her eyes, she saw her reflection in the mirror. Running the water, she rinsed and wiped her mouth. The woman who looked back at her the second time looked far more composed.

"He'll be better off without you," she whispered.

Feeling far less queasy, she took a moment to steady herself before wandering back down the hall. Since Green would be gone for a while longer, she might as well explore a little bit. Across the hall from the bathroom was the bedroom. She stopped on the threshold, pursing her lips and shuddering slightly. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the room.

Her eyes travelled to the bed first, the King-size mattress was set high off the floor and appeared rather comfortable with expensive looking linens and six pillows. A low dresser was set against the wall facing the bed, a large mirror propped on top. She walked over and looked at it, noticing how the mirror gave a full view to the headboard and opposite wall. She shuddered again.

Heading back towards the door, a glint caught her eye from the headboard. Going over, she looked closer and her eyes widened.

A set of handcuffs was tied to the headboard, together with some long ribbons of black cloth.

She swallowed, reaching out with a trembling hand to touch the cold metal and the smooth silk. Recoiling, she looked at the bed, then over to the mirror, imagining just what he used these items for, and on who. The dark dreams that she'd had of Green from before came flooding back but this time, instead of being on her hands and knees, she was chained to his bed and blindfolded.

Trapped. Caught. Helpless.

Shame and arousal washed over her and her breath quickened.

She raced from the room, leaning against the wall in the hallway and covering her mouth with her hand. Her heartbeat was flying and she closed her eyes and took deep breaths to try to calm herself. She wondered how soon Green would be back. She needed to get this over with so her fall would be complete.

Tears were threatening to spill and she cringed, punching the wall in despair. She was about to go back to the living room to wait for him, like a condemned prisoner goes to wait for the executioner, when her ears picked up a strange sound.

She stood up straight and opened her eyes, frowning as she tried to listen. It was a muffled sound, droning in and out, like indecipherable, hushed voices. Frowning, she craned her neck left and right to see if she could pick it up better.

Turning to her right, she went into what seemed to be Green's study. His laptop was sitting on a desk along the far wall, the screen black. As she approached, she noticed a set of earphones sitting on the desk, finally realizing that the noise she heard was the sound coming through them.

Sitting down at the desk, she reached over and touched the screen, the display brightening as it came back on. Her mouth fell open and her eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets.

She saw Lord Grantham having sex with Lady Grantham and another woman.

Anna immediately shut her eyes and looked away, raising her hands in front of her in a futile effort to shield herself from the horrifying images. After a moment, she slowly turned back and forced herself to open her eyes. The sound of the sex video was playing through Green's earphones, and it appeared that the video was on a repeat loop, which meant not only did Green somehow have possession of Lord Grantham's infamous sex video, but he had watched it numerous times.

She frowned at this shocking discovery.

Fighting with her drunken mind, she opened the File Explorer on the laptop and looked around. Green had saved Lord Grantham's video to a subfolder that contained numerous other collections of files, each of them with a different woman's name on it. She scrolled through and blanched when she found a folder bearing her name. Her chest tightened as she opened it and looked at the alphabetical file list.

They were mostly photographs, taken throughout their time in Toronto, with a few from awards shows that they'd attended at the same time. There were selfies that she remembered taking with him, but the majority were photos that he must have grabbed using his phone when she wasn't looking. The sheer volume was shocking.

Going back through the file system, she found a folder for Rachel and several other women identified as '…from Toronto'. Judging by the photographs, Rachel and the others had posed naked for him, and even let him take photos of them while having sex. The amount of all of this pornography was startling, and combined with what she had seen in his bedroom, filled her with dread. Who was this man?

Her pulse jumped as she feared that he might have taken secret photographs of Mary. He was one of the few allowed on-set when they filmed the love scenes between Mary and Tony, and he had access to the daily prints as well. Obviously, the photos of Rachel and the others were done for his personal use and enjoyment, but did he somehow find the Lord Grantham sex video on Tony's instructions? Did Tony order him to take photos of Mary for his boss' use?

She felt relief when she found no folder entitled 'Mary' or 'Lady Mary', glad that her best friend wasn't one of his targets. She was about to close the File Explorer and leave the laptop as she found it when she saw another folder that stood out to her.

 _ **Mabel Lane Fox**_

She had to blink to make sure she was reading it properly. Why would Green have any photos of Tony's girlfriend? What kind of sick game was he playing at? Ignoring her fear, she opened the folder and saw that it contained only a handful of photographs, mainly posed shots of Mabel and Tony that Green was probably instructed to take with his phone. The last file on the list, though, was a video.

She went to open it, then noticed from the taskbar that it was already opened in the video player.

Clicking over, she gasped aloud. The video showed a younger Mabel taking her clothes off at what appeared to be an audition. Anna's breath caught in her throat when she saw a man enter the frame and begin kissing Mabel roughly. Mabel didn't fight him, but it was obvious from her posture and her tightly shut eyes that she was not enjoying it at all. When the man turned to sit down on the sofa and pull her down with him, Anna's eyes widened.

The man was one of the old producers from Season One of _Paladin_.

She quickly hit stop on the video playback and looked away to try and gather herself. She couldn't even begin to understand why Green had obtained all of this, and what purpose was he using it for? When she looked back at the screen, she noticed the clock displayed in the corner of the task bar. Green had been gone for eighteen minutes.

She didn't have much time.

 **Baggage Hall, Terminal 1, Toronto Pearson International Airport, Toronto, Canada, August 20, 2017**

Alex stood by the baggage carousel for his flight, waiting for the luggage to arrive. His flight had made good time across the Atlantic, so he landed early. Going through Customs was a breeze since he was able to use the automated Nexus system. The end result, though, was that he had outpaced his own bags, leaving him standing around with the other passengers.

He switched his phone off of Flight mode and waited as all of the network features came online. There were unread emails, a few texts and different notifications from his apps and video games. No word at all from Anna.

He sighed and shook his head in frustration. He had left without saying goodbye. She had obviously not wanted to talk to him any further when the bellman arrived. It was a rule of his to never go to bed angry, to always try and talk out their problems right away, even when they were fighting. He always said she could be mad at him again in the morning, but they should never leave each other or go to sleep without being at peace.

This afternoon, they had broken that rule. They seemed to be breaking a lot of rules lately.

He would normally at least send her a text to tell her he'd arrived safely. Even over these past months of separation, they had maintained that. Checking the time on his phone, it was just past 11 p.m. over there. He imagined she was still at Painswick House, laughing it up with Mary and Matthew, Sybil and Tom. Normally, she would know down to the minute when his plane was scheduled to land and expect a text from him shortly afterward. He imagined that somehow, she wouldn't be so vigilant tonight.

 **Flat of Alexander Green, Chelsea, London, England, August 20, 2017**

Anna came back into the living room, glancing around frantically to try and remember what she was looking for. She finally found her clutch on the side table near the kitchen. With it safely in her hands, she headed for the door. She would text him that Mary summoned her with an emergency while he was away. He wouldn't like that she had left, but better to draw his anger than stay here.

She froze as she heard a key fumbling outside, eventually finding its way into the door lock. Instinctively, she bolted back into the living room, sitting back down on the sofa just as the door opened and Green reappeared.

"Hi. Sorry about that. Tony wanted me to pick up a delivery for him and the fucking guy got lost," he said, coming into the living room.

"No worries," she said, smiling up at him, her pulse racing. She had to come up with an excuse and her mind was blank.

"You finished your drink," he said, leaning over and picking up her empty glass. He gave her a playful smile. "I'll get you another one."

She watched as he turned and went into the kitchen, her heart hammering in her chest.

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, August 20, 2017**

"Oh God! Mercy! Mercy, please!" Mary called, gasping over and over.

"No," Matthew growled, pausing just long enough to answer before he pushed her thighs apart again and lowered his head to her centre.

"Ah! You fucking, amazing man!" she chanted, too aroused to care how ridiculous she sounded or how much she was feeding his ego. "Don't stop! Don't stop!"

He laughed darkly, raising his head and smirking at her. "I thought you wanted mercy, though?"

"Argh! No! Just do it! Just do it, Matthew! Please! Make me…aah!" she begged, then lost all coherence as his tongue and fingers drove her over the edge.

He grinned as he watched her shake, his hands massaging her thighs. He sat up and waited until she calmed enough to open her eyes and look at him.

"More?" he asked, smiling at her devilishly.

She laughed sultrily and sat up, pushing him on to his back and straddling him.

"Always," she declared, arching her eyebrow and reaching between them to take hold of him. They moaned together when she guided him inside her.

 **Flat of Alexander Green, Chelsea, London, England, August 20, 2017**

"Cheers," Green said, handing the glass to Anna.

She looked at it for a moment. It appeared to be vodka and orange juice again, but was it really? Her paranoia took hold of her after all that she had found out about him. She couldn't trust anything about him anymore.

"I should probably pace myself," she said, setting the drink down. "I've had a lot already tonight."

"Did you?" he asked, leaning towards her. She held her ground, determined not to show any nerves. He was sitting so close, she could smell his cologne and sweat, the previously alluring scent now anathema to her.

"Yeah, I had four or five Blue Angels at the hotel bar," she said, laughing in what she hoped was a believable tone.

"Ah, so you got drunk and came over here. Interesting," he noted, smiling at her in return.

"Well," she said, looking down at the floor.

She felt his hand on her cheek, gently turning her to look at him. Disgust filled her as she felt his touch on her skin.

"Why are you here?" he asked firmly. "What do you want?"

She opened her mouth but no words came out. His hand caressed her cheek and jaw, keeping her looking at him.

"Anna, I don't know what you're going through, but I can help you. I can help you forget about everything. Tonight, I can help you be free," he said softly, his voice deep and soothing, even though alarm bells were ringing in her head. If this was just half an hour earlier, she would have given into him already, melted under his covetous gaze and commanding voice, let him have his way with her.

"Come on," he said, standing up and reaching out his hand. "Time to give you that tour."

She looked up at his towering figure and swallowed. Unable to think of an excuse, she put her hand in his and stood up. Holding her hand firmly, he led her towards the hall.

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, August 20, 2017**

"Mary!" Matthew exclaimed, gritting his teeth as he looked down at her.

"Not so smug anymore, are we?" Mary teased, smirking up at him as she stroked him slowly. Arching her eyebrow, she kept her eyes on his and licked his full length.

He groaned in pleasure, his thighs shaking.

"Tell me, darling," she said. "Tell me what you want."

"Oh please!" he rasped, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," she said before she grinned wickedly. "Enjoy."

He breathed harshly when she opened her mouth and took him in. Unable to resist, he reached down and took hold of her head, her pleased moan enflaming his desire and causing him to thrust forward.

 **Flat of Alexander Green, Chelsea, London, England, August 20, 2017**

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Green asked lightly, going over to the dresser. Unseen to her, he removed numerous bags from his pockets and placed them before him, blocking her view.

"Erm, no," Anna replied, glancing at the bed, then back over at Green. Her mind was an addled mess, the alcohol and the adrenaline coursing through her veins doing very little to help her think straight. If she just said that she had to leave, he likely would not accept that and would argue with her to stay. If she made up some excuse, like Mary needed her or something, he would be suspicious for not having heard her phone buzz with a text or ring with a call. He obviously had designs on her for some time given the months he'd spent taking photos of her. She saw now how dangerous he was, and could only imagine what he would do if he thought she was leading him on or rejecting him.

"I picked up some amazing weed last week," Green stated, his back to her as he busied himself making two marijuana joints, one for him and a very special drug-laced one for her. "Ever since the wrap party, I've been thinking about lighting up again, but haven't gotten up the nerve until recently."

"What happened recently?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

"Nothing. It's just that Tony doesn't watch me as closely here as he does when we're traveling," he explained.

"Ah. He lets you get away with things here, does he?" she asked, trying not to look at the handcuffs attached to the headboard.

"I will neither confirm, nor deny. No names, no pack drill," he said, laughing. "Here we go."

He turned around and lit the joint with a lighter. She could smell it immediately from where she was standing. He took a drag and blew blue-white smoke in her direction.

"That's good shit," he said thickly. "Here's yours."

She stared at the joint in his outstretched hand. "No, you know what? I'm fine."

He looked at her curiously. "Oh come on. You've done it before. It'll help you relax."

He went over and sat down on the bed, lighting the second joint and holding it up to her. "Here."

She stared at it, her lips sealed tight. She knew what would happen if she were to smoke with him. The weed would get into her lungs and bloodstream and up to her brain, relaxing her, making her more compliant and also aroused. The effect would be stronger on her since she didn't smoke anymore and had no tolerance for it. It wouldn't hit her right away, but eventually the high would have her effectively incapacitated. Even if she managed to keep her wits about her, his sheer size and strength would overwhelm her in seconds. She would be powerless to resist.

She closed her eyes, the marijuana already invading her body as she breathed in. She was trapped, and worst of all, she had brought all of this upon herself.

She opened her eyes and shuffled towards him, her shoulders slumping as she resigned herself to her fate. She came here to ruin herself, and now her reckoning had arrived.

 _'Alex, I love you. I'm so sorry,'_ she thought, tears gathering in her eyes.

She reached out for the joint.

 _'Is it bright where you are? Have the people changed? Does it make you happy you're so strange? And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame. You can watch the world devoured in its pain…'_

Green frowned and stared at her clutch.

Anna blinked, her eyes going wide as she recognized the ringtone.

"Oh my God, it's Alex!" she said quickly, reaching in and grabbing her phone. She thought she'd never been happier to see his smiling face on her screen.

"Hello?" she said, answering the call.

"Hi," Alex said, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Hi!" she said desperately, looking at Green's perturbed expression. Seizing her chance, she headed out into the hallway.

He put out the two joints and left them on the dresser, silently cursing and chasing after her.

"Just wanted you to know that I got back okay," Alex said.

"Right! Right!" she replied, her pulse racing as she heard Green follow her out into the hall. "Okay."

"So I'll talk to you later, then," Alex said dismissively.

"Yeah, sure," she said distractedly, making her way back to the living room.

Alex paused, obviously waiting for her to say something else. An apology. An 'I love you'. Her mind spun as she tried to get to the foyer somehow.

She swallowed nervously, feeling Green's presence just behind her.

"Goodnight. Bye," Alex said curtly, hanging up the call.

"Yeah, sorry, I lost track of time. You know how it is when Mary and I get to drinking," she said into the phone, laughing nervously. She dared to turn around and look at Green's confused face. She gave him an apologetic smile.

"Yeah, I'm on my way back now. No! No! You don't have to come pick me up. I'll just jump in the Tube, or grab a taxi, no problem," she said, biting her bottom lip as she paused long enough as if Alex was still on the line.

Green frowned. She threw her free hand up and shrugged, backing her way towards the foyer.

He followed her.

"Yeah, all right, all right. I'll see you soon. Yeah. Love you," she said into the empty line. Lowering her phone, she looked at Green and steeled herself.

"I have to go. I'm so sorry. Alex wasn't supposed to be back so soon. He told me he'd be out most of the night with his mates," she explained, adding a whinge to her voice as if she was disappointed at having to leave.

He struggled, trying to think of something to say.

"If he went to look for me at Mary's, he'd discover I wasn't there, and he'd be furious. We have an app on our phones that allows us to track each other's locations. He'd find me here, and I'm sorry, but I just can't deal with that right now," she said, her stomach threatening to rebel against her as she heard her own deplorable words.

His face brightened as he came closer. "You never really answered me before. Why did you come here? What do you want?"

She looked down at the floor, trying to calm her shaking hands. "I think you know. Please don't make me say it."

She raised her head and met his leering gaze. Her meek expression and behaviour would turn him on, she expected.

She was right.

"You want me to make you feel how I made Rachel feel?" he asked.

She almost retched at the thought, but kept herself together enough to nod her head. If she appeared too enthusiastic, he would be suspicious, think that she was lying to get away from him. "Yeah," she whispered.

He smiled. "I can do that. You go back to him now, but when you return to Paris, we'll schedule something for just the two of us."

"In Paris?" she questioned, hoping she wasn't pushing her luck.

"Yeah," he said. "I'll tell you when. Just the two of us, no one else, no distractions. I'll make all your troubles go away."

She nodded, holding his gaze.

"Goodnight," he said, leaning in for a kiss.

She kissed his cheek. "Goodnight."

It took every ounce of control she had left to give him a smile, walk out the door and go down to the street to hail a taxi without running for her life. She covered her face with her hands and cried violently the moment she was in the cab.

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, August 21, 2017**

"Still think you're the prude of your family?" Matthew teased, rubbing her bare back.

"Mmm, I'd say you're doing your utmost to change that," Mary said lazily, resting her head against his chest. "I'd like to see Edith or Sybil try to go as many times as we do in one night."

"I think I'll just assume we have the record. There's no need for conclusive proof, thanks," he mumbled.

She slapped his chest lightly. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Can we change the subject immediately? I'm really trying to avoid the mental imagery," he said quickly.

She laughed and kissed his chest in apology.

"All right, how's this? When you wake me up tomorrow morning, I want you to turn me over and…" she began, but was interrupted by her phone buzzing.

"Who's that? It's well past midnight," he muttered, frowning at her phone shining brightly on the nightstand.

"Probably Edith. It's only midday in Singapore," she explained, reaching over and grabbing her phone.

"Hello? Anna! Hi. We thought you were Edith calling from Asia. Yes? What? Right now? Well, we'll need a few minutes. Where are you? What? We'll be right up. Hang on," she said, her voice growing more serious.

"What's that about?" he asked in confusion.

"Anna's upstairs at the front door," she replied quickly, getting out of bed and searching for her underwear.

"What? Why?" he asked, getting up on his side and grabbing his boxer briefs off the floor.

"She said it was urgent. Come on," she urged him, tying her robe tightly around her.

"Urgent? Why?" he frowned, putting on his robe and following Mary out the door and to the stairs.

* * *

 **Song Credits:**

 **The End is the Beginning is the End -** Smashing Pumpkins, (1997), Warner Bros.


	13. Chapter 13

**Previously:**

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, August 21, 2017**

"Hello? Anna! Hi. We thought you were Edith calling from Asia. Yes? What? Right now? Well, we'll need a few minutes. Where are you? What? We'll be right up. Hang on," she said, her voice growing more serious.

"What's that about?" he asked in confusion.

"Anna's upstairs at the front door," she replied quickly, getting out of bed and searching for her underwear.

"What? Why?" he asked, getting up on his side and grabbing his boxer briefs off the floor.

"She said it was urgent. Come on," she urged him, tying her robe tightly around her.

"Urgent? Why?" he frowned, putting on his robe and following Mary out the door and to the stairs.

 **Chapter 13:**

 **Painswick House, Eaton Square, Belgravia, London, England, August 21, 2017**

Mary sighed wearily, closed her bedroom door behind her and shuffled back to bed. She groaned and eased herself under the duvet, suddenly feeling worn out as the late hour caught up to her. Sliding across the soft linens, she settled against Matthew's firm, bare chest. His arms came around her and she hummed in relief, nuzzling against his neck, breathing in his scent, letting the warmth of his body wash over her.

"Anna asleep?" he asked.

"Mmm, finally," she replied, closing her eyes. "Isobel gave her some of Granny's Ambien and that helped. I pushed our flight to the evening, basically the same time as yours. The Savoy will send her luggage over in the morning. Hopefully, she'll feel better when she wakes up, but I doubt it."

"I still can't believe it. What was she thinking? Why would she do that? Why would she go to him?" he mumbled.

"Darling, let's not judge her too harshly, please," she urged him. "She's going to be flogging herself enough as it is. To be honest, I'm still in shock over what she discovered."

He huffed. "Yes, well there's that, too. My God."

She opened her eyes and paused, remaining quiet and tracing figures on his stomach with her fingers.

"Hey," he said, his voice heavy. "What's wrong?"

"She copied it all," she whispered finally.

He frowned. "What?"

She lifted her head and turned towards him. "Anna downloaded Dad's video and the…material…that Green had of her. She copied them to her Cloud drive. He doesn't know that she did."

He blinked. "So when she found all of it on his laptop…"

"She didn't flee right away," she finished, shaking her head sadly. "She stayed to wait for it all to upload first, because she knew that I would want to see it. That's why she was still there when he got back."

"Oh, darling," he sympathized, reaching for her.

She sobbed and collapsed against him, shaking as he held her.

"Who knows what could have happened to her? Yet she didn't even think of saving herself until she got Dad's stupid video for me first. Oh God, why would she even chance it? Is that what I've done to her? Have I pushed her too much? Am I so demanding that she puts me ahead of herself even when she's in danger?" she whinged.

"Shh," he said, rubbing her back. "Anna loves you, and you love her, and she did that because she's selfless and loyal. You didn't make her do anything."

"I would never even think to do the same for her, or for anyone," she cried. "God, Edith's right. I can be a selfish bitch, can't I?"

"Hush. To those you care about, to those you love, you're as fierce a friend as anyone could ever ask for," he affirmed, hugging her close. "All that matters is that Anna got away, and she's here, and she's safe. Let's sleep now. We'll be dealing with all of this for a while yet, I'm afraid."

She reached for his hand and kissed it, holding it against her chest.

"I love you," she told him softly.

"I love you too. Go to sleep," he replied, closing his eyes.

* * *

She was walking down the hall at Painswick House this time, but she still knew what was coming next. The bright light at the end of the corridor beckoned and she moved towards it, unable to stop herself. Turning the corner, she was back in her bedroom once more, in her house in Toronto, the house she shared with her husband.

She was tied down this time, her wrists handcuffed and chained to the headboard, her legs tied to the lower bed posts with long black silk ribbons. Her back was arched, her hips rolling with every pounding thrust. Green's face was twisted into a manic grin, his eyes wide and leering down at her, his body tense as he took her over and over. His hands were groping her everywhere, his violent movements drawing harsh groans from her open lips.

Anna stepped towards the bed, her pulse racing, her stomach clenched. She looked into her own eyes, the woman on the bed staring back at her in despair.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "I'm sorry! Oh fuck!"

She watched herself close her eyes and cry out in rapture.

Anna backed away from the bed and jolted in shock as she bumped into someone behind her. Turning her head, she cried out as she looked up at the rage-filled eyes of her husband.

"Oh!" she choked, her eyes shooting open, the bed and the darkened guest bedroom at Painswick House coming into focus. She lifted her head and looked around, making sure she was actually awake and alone. Breathing raggedly, she fell back to the pillows and covered her eyes with her hand. Her phone was sitting on the nightstand, the blinking light indicating there were unread messages waiting for her. Ignoring it, she pulled the duvet up to her chin and curled up into a ball, shutting her eyes tight and praying for a dreamless sleep.

 **Office of Joseph Molesley & Associates, Soho, London, England, August 21, 2017**

"And these ones as well," Phyllis advised, placing a stack of glossy photos in front of Matthew.

He frowned at the pile, scribbling his signature on the last photo in front of him and setting it aside before sighing in exasperation and picking up the first from the top of the fresh stack.

"This seems to be quite a lot," he noted, signing his autograph and moving on to the next photo.

"It's the most you've ever done," she stated proudly, taking the already signed photos and organizing them in neat piles.

"We're getting a bunch of fan mail in from the Far East now," Joe declared happily, coming over to watch Matthew sign. "Japan loves you, they do."

"If these are being sent to Japan, then shouldn't my name be in Japanese?" Matthew asked, nodding at the photos as he kept signing.

Joe's eyes widened in surprise. "Uh…"

"We'll think about that for the next batch. I'm sure it's not a problem," Phyllis interjected, casting a wry smile at her husband.

"Easy there, Joe. I was only joking," Matthew assured him, smirking at his agent.

"Oh, right, right, of course!" Joe replied, laughing shakily and looking over at his wife with concern.

Matthew smiled and kept signing.

"I spoke to Warren over at Sony last week," Joe continued. "They're loving what they're seeing so far in the dailies from Spain. They also sent me the artwork for the _Shattered_ Blu-ray. It looks really sharp. They've got you on the cover with the others."

"Really?" Matthew blurted out. "I didn't even think about that."

"Oh yes, they're quite high on you over there," Joe boasted. "It's only August, but so far you're in their plans for a promo reel heading into awards season."

Matthew stopped signing and looked up at his agent in disbelief. "What?"

"A promo reel," Joe repeated slowly, looking over at Phyllis in confusion. "You know, where they take a few of your clips and put "For Your Consideration" at the bottom and send them around to all the Academy voters and the Hollywood Foreign Press and that lot."

"And there'll be a spread in _Variety_ and other trade papers closer to the nomination deadlines," Phyllis added.

"Yes, yes, I know what a promo reel is," Matthew clarified. "I meant why are they putting one together for me?"

"For Best Supporting Actor in a Drama of course," Phyllis answered, smiling at him. "Matthew, your reviews were universally positive, even glowing in some cases. Not to mention that the film far exceeded expectations. There's a lot of good pub going around for it even now."

Matthew blinked and sat back. "I guess I never really paid much attention. All that horrid business with Robert happened during premiere week."

"Well, we've saved everything if you wanted to have a look," Joe suggested.

Matthew shook his head. "No, no, that's all right. I'll just see if anything comes from it. There's still months to go until the awards season anyway."

"Yes, that's true, but it's good to be in the mix regardless," Phyllis concluded.

"Right, right. So they'll be putting the four of us forward as candidates, I assume," Matthew guessed, going back to signing his photos.

Joe shared a worried look with Phyllis. "Well, we don't quite know for certain about Mary, you see," he remarked quietly. "Just because of what happened and all. Her performance was brilliant, of course, but she's not exactly held in very high regard with the studios at the moment, so we don't know if they'll push for her."

Matthew stopped signing and looked up, a frown on his face.

"Of course, they should! Obviously!" Joe stammered, nodding quickly. "We just don't know if they will."

Matthew grunted and went back to signing.

"When you're done with those, we have four scripts that have come in for you that we think you should consider," Phyllis announced.

"We received over a dozen, but these are the four we think you'll like best," Joe gushed.

"Mmm, all right," Matthew said curtly, focusing on his signing.

 **Harrods, Knightsbridge, London, England, August 21, 2017**

Mary skimmed her texts on her phone, idly checking her recent messages while she waited for Sybil to try on shoes. Her younger sister was walking back and forth, evaluating the fit of a pair of blue boots that were highly impractical for a woman who was six months pregnant.

"It's no use," Sybil complained, coming over and sitting down on the leather sofa next to Mary. "I look like I'm waddling more than strutting, and these are fucking uncomfortable besides."

Mary smirked. "You've barely gained three stone. You're over-exaggerating again."

Sybil groaned as she took off the boots. "Well knee-highs aren't very practical, rather, except maybe in the bedroom."

She chuckled at her own joke. When Mary didn't respond or look up from her phone, she nudged her in the side.

"What's that, darling?" Mary asked, turning towards her.

"Nothing important. What's going on with you? You've been distracted all morning, which never happens when you go shopping," Sybil questioned.

"Oh, it's nothing. I just don't feel up for it when I can just get whatever I want in Paris," Mary replied. "And you know how I get when I travel. Saying goodbye to Granny this morning was torture."

"Yeah, I know," Sybil acknowledged sadly. "Why was Anna sleeping in one of the basement guestrooms? When did she come over?"

"Oh, last night. I told her that there was no sense staying on her own with Alex gone back to Canada. She was out with some old friends so she got in a bit late, is all," Mary covered quickly.

"Ah," Sybil commented, nodding her head. "It's such a shame that they're spending the summer apart."

"It most definitely is," Mary muttered.

"So I meant to ask you yesterday – what do you want me to do if Matthew decides to propose?" Sybil enquired.

Mary blinked. "What? What do you mean?"

"Well, he's obviously going to tell me beforehand, and he's obviously going to swear me to secrecy, so when he does, do you want me to tell you, or not?" Sybil explained.

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" Mary demanded, arching her eyebrow.

"Because he's one of my best friends and he would be trusting me to keep it a secret," Sybil spelt out.

"I'm your sister! Your loyalty is to me!" Mary insisted. "Blood is thicker than water, and all that."

"Yeah, but he's practically blood. We've known him since we were children," Sybil pointed out.

"He's not blood, not even a little bit. If he was, it would be illegal for me to marry him, not to mention entirely disgusting," Mary huffed.

"Yeah, but you know what I mean," Sybil noted. "He would be trusting me not to ruin the surprise."

"He knows I hate surprises," Mary countered. "Wait a second, has he already told you?"

"No!" Sybil denied. "And anyway, even if he had, I couldn't tell you, if he swore me to secrecy."

"So he has told you, then," Mary accused, frowning at her sister.

"No, he hasn't!" Sybil objected.

"But if he had, you would be denying that he had, if you wanted to keep his secret," Mary concluded.

"Not necessarily. I could just say that I'm not allowed to tell you," Sybil remarked.

"If you told me that you weren't allowed to tell me, that's essentially admitting that he did tell you, but that you're keeping it a secret," Mary declared.

"No, it's not!" Sybil protested. "It's just saying he may have told me, or he may not have told me, but either way, I'm not allowed to tell you."

"But that's no different from saying that you're not allowed to tell me regardless of whether he told you, or not!" Mary scoffed. "In both cases, it's entirely possible that he did tell you and you're just covering for him."

Sybil frowned and looked upwards, running over her sister's words in the mind. "Oh. Right. I suppose that's true, yeah. That's a bit of a conundrum, isn't it?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "So has he told you that he's going to propose, or not?"

Sybil smirked. "I really can't say."

Mary groaned.

Sybil laughed and patted her knee.

"Sybil, if I find out that you knew all along but didn't tell me, so help me, I'll turn that child of yours into an entitled toff so fast…" Mary threatened.

"All right, all right!" Sybil gave in, waving her hands in front of her. "I swear he hasn't told me, honestly! But it's a legitimate question, still, because you know he'll come to me first."

Mary pursed her lips and looked down, considering Sybil's point. "Well, I'll still expect you to tell me, and when he does propose, I'll just act surprised and deny that I knew in advance."

Sybil chuckled and shook her head. "Let's go and have some tea. I'm done here. You better send Edith and I photos of the ring you want, you know, just in case."

Mary stood up and reached out a hand to help her sister to her feet. "Oh, I'm not worried about that. Matthew has excellent taste in jewellery."

 **Terminal 4, Heathrow Airport, London, England, August 21, 2017**

"Have a safe flight, Matthew. Bye," Anna said quickly, giving him a hug before turning away. She glanced over at Mary and told her she would meet her in the Air France lounge. Mary nodded and watched her head off to security screening, pulling her carry-on bag with her.

"That was awkward," Matthew muttered.

"Oh, she's just in a hurry to get back to Paris, is all," Mary assured him. "You can't blame her for wanting to leave London as soon as possible."

"No, I can't, but she's also concerned that I'll tell Alex about what happened, clearly," he noted, shaking his head.

"And you'll tell him nothing," she warned. "Darling, we agreed. This is for the two of them to sort out. We can't interfere."

"I agreed grudgingly," he corrected her. "I'm not convinced she's going to come clean right away. You know Anna. She likes burying herself in work whenever she's stressed out and avoids the actual problem for as long as possible."

"She can't go very long without talking to him, and if he is as perceptive as we think, he'll catch on that something's the matter with her. She'll tell him. I know she will. It's going to get very ugly, I'm sure, but she'll tell him," she stated confidently.

He took a deep breath and exhaled, still looking over at Anna joining the priority line up ahead.

"You have a flight to catch," Mary reminded him, drawing his attention once more. "Now stop worrying and kiss me before I get cross."

He turned to her and smiled. "What if someone sees us?"

She arched her eyebrow at him. "Then you had better make it a good one."

He chuckled and took her in his arms. "Have a safe flight, darling. I'll miss you."

"You too. Call me when you land in Madrid. You're sure that I can't convince you to come to Paris first? You'll get to San Sebastián at virtually the same time tomorrow, and you won't need to spend the night in a hotel," she pointed out.

He shook his head. "I would love to, but I can't. I've got that conference call when I get to Madrid and you, my darling, are far too distracting. If I came with you to Paris, I'd probably miss the call altogether."

She smiled. "I suppose that's an acceptable excuse, but only because you'll be in Paris soon enough anyway."

"Less than two weeks," he assured her.

She tilted her head and he leaned in, kissing her warmly and holding it for a second before he released her.

"Bye."

"Bye."

He watched her head off to the security check, not even caring whether there were any camera phones trained on him or not. They had been photographed together at Edith's wedding, though none of the tabloids or gossip websites suspected they were anything more than family friends and former co-stars who happened to be in the same wedding party. The paparazzi didn't usually hang around the airport this late in the evening, preferring to catch celebrities when they emerged from the exit and walked to their waiting cars.

A part of him hoped that they had been photographed. He hadn't discussed it with Mary at all lately, but he was hoping they would go public with their relationship soon. A statement to the press wasn't necessary, but he wanted to hold her hand and kiss her out in the open without worrying about who might see. With the Emmys coming up in September, he was planning to go as her date. He knew Aunt Rosamund would object, but he felt as if Mary was coming around. The horrible treatment she had received following her father's scandal and spending the summer shooting a French film had given her a different perspective on Hollywood. She was ready to no longer play by their rules, and he was more than willing to go be by her side through it all.

He turned and headed for the train to Terminal 5 to catch his flight to Madrid. Once again, he thought about what had happened to Anna just last night, and how Alex still didn't know almost 24 hours later. Of course, it was a private matter between Anna and her husband, and Matthew had no right to interfere, or force the matter by saying anything before she had a chance to.

Even still, he couldn't shake the conflicted feelings inside of him.

Alex was Anna's husband but he was Matthew's best friend. They had been close since meeting as teenagers and Alex was the most reliable man that Matthew knew. When Mary rejected his proposal and left England for Canada, Alex was there for him. When he followed to Toronto a couple of years later, Alex helped him get moved in and settled. During those early months when Matthew was making a pittance and was eating canned tuna and microwave pasta, Alex paid for lunches and dinners, and made the time to hang out with him. Even when he began seeing Mary again, Alex supported him, despite being very sceptical about the entire arrangement. Whenever he needed him, Alex was there. Now Matthew was aware of information that Alex deserved to know, regardless of the pain it would cause him and the potential damage to his marriage. If the situation was reversed, Alex would tell him straight away, no question, damn the consequences or bruised feelings. Alex would tell him because he was his best friend, and it was the right thing to do.

Matthew frowned, a sickening feeling twisting his stomach. He took a deep breath and boarded the train, silently praying that Anna would do the right thing and get on with it quickly.

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, August 24, 2017**

"Again!" Paul shouted from his chair. "This is a confrontation, not a discussion, yes? There is tension, there is anger, there is fear, there is passion! It cannot just be in your voices, it must be in your eyes, your posture, you are sparring with each other, no? Again!"

Mary gritted her teeth behind her closed lips, turning around and going back to her mark. The hairstylist came over and adjusted her hair once more while the make-up people touched up Vincent's cheeks. The two actors shared a rueful look once the set cleared. They had been going over this scene for more than an hour, firing off take after take, never meeting Paul's exacting standard no matter what they did.

"Lumière! Moteur!" Paul shouted in French.

"Tourne," the sound engineer replied, confirming they were recording audio.

"Action!" Paul ordered.

"I don't want to model anymore," Mary said quietly, looking down at the space between her and Vincent. "I'm done."

"But why?" Vincent asked, smiling at her. "You are so good at it. You're the best."

She shook her head. "I don't want to. I'm just going to focus on my music, focus on me."

"Let's talk about this, yes? We can go and have a café," he suggested reaching for her arm.

"No," she said quickly, pulling back. She looked up at him and swallowed nervously. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to have coffee! I…I don't think we should see each other anymore."

He blinked, his brow crinkling in confusion.

"Thanks for all your help, really," she stammered. "But I know my way around now and I've met some people who can help me get to where I want to go, so I don't need to use you anymore."

She bit her bottom lip, looking at him cautiously, waiting for him to try to convince her to change her mind.

Instead, he lunged forward and grabbed her, drawing a startled cry from her open mouth. His one hand clutched her arm, the other closed around her neck, not hard at all, but enough to make it appear as though he was holding her firmly.

"Putain! You think you can end this? You do not end this, ever! Do you understand? You are mine! Mine! There is no 'focus on you'. There is no you without me!" Vincent sneered.

Her eyes were wide with alarm, her mind reeling. None of this was in the script.

"I…" she struggled, her hands pushing against him.

"Bon! Bon!" Paul called, ending the take. He got out of his chair and clapped, smiling as he came over to them.

Vincent released her and stepped back. She frowned and rubbed her neck, wondering if he left bruises.

"That was wonderful! Wonderful!" Paul beamed, coming over and putting his hands on both of their shoulders. "That look, _Marie_ , that was perfect! The shock, the confusion, wonderful!"

"Mary," Vincent began.

"Allez, allez, Vincent," Paul ordered, shooing the actor away. With his arm around Mary's shoulders, her turned her away and walked with her over to another part of the set.

"That wasn't in the script, or in any of our previous takes," she said tightly. "Why did Vincent decide to play it that way?"

"Because I told him to," Paul revealed easily. "I said for him to be more angry, more forceful, but to wait until later to try it."

She blinked and looked at him in surprise.

"If you had known that he was going to do that in advance, you would not have had as genuine a reaction as you did," Paul continued. "That is what I want from you. That extra edge of realité."

"Should I be on my guard for other such surprises?" she asked, arching her eyebrow.

He chuckled and nodded. Giving her a devious smirk, he leaned in closer to her. "Yes, you should. And you will soon get your chance to shock him back. He will not get to have all the fun, do not worry about that."

She blinked and stared at him, noticing how his eyes seemed to be brighter and more enthusiastic than usual.

"This time, I want you to really let go," he said. "Cry. Scream. Slap him. Do whatever comes to mind. Think about how Lily is realizing her predicament for the first time, seeing how dark Antoine is for the first time. She wants to flee, but she cannot. I want to see terror, horror. After, when we do your monologue, same thing. Raw. Real. Yes?"

"Raw. Real," she repeated.

"Yes. That is the difference between okay and good, between good and great, between an actress and a star. Just like in your audition, _Marie_ , remember? The others, they read the scene as written. You, you made it your own. Do that now. This take, and every take, show me the pain, the fear, make me feel it. When I give you back the power later, it will be all the more striking, yes?"

She nodded. "Yes."

He smiled and caressed her cheek for a brief second. "Bon. Let's go."

Mary wandered over to her mark once more, took a deep breath and readied herself. Paul went back to his chair.

"Mary, are you okay?" Vincent asked quietly, looking at her with concern.

She nodded and smiled bravely. "Fine. Don't worry. I'm made of stout stuff."

Vincent nodded, watching her carefully.

"We go from 'there is no you without me' yes? Lumiére!" Paul ordered.

The lights returned to the previous setting for the screen, focused on the two of them, with the classroom background faded in shadow.

Mary raised her chin. Vincent put his one hand on her arm and the other across her neck.

"Moteur!" Paul called.

"Ça tourne," the engineer confirmed.

Mary raised her hands and pushed back against him.

"Action!" Paul snapped.

"There is no you without me!" Vincent spat, pulling her roughly towards him.

"I…stop! Stop!" Mary pleaded, shoving him and punching his chest, unable to break his grip.

"You will never be free of me! You fill my every sense, my very spirit. All of this art, this beauty, I have created because of you, for you. You cannot walk away from that," he hissed.

"Ah, ah," she cried tightly, looking at him with wild eyes.

He yanked her to him and kissed her cheek.

"Argh," she groaned, shaking as she looked at him in terror.

"Mine, Lily," he said, staring into her eyes, his lips so close to hers. "Mine."

She broke out of his hold and turned away, running off down the street they had built on the set.

"Bon! Yes!" Paul called out, ending the scene.

Mary turned and came back, her pulse beating quickly and a smile on her face.

* * *

"It took a while, but we finally got to see the real Paul today," Edna noted, smiling as she sat down across the table from Anna.

"That was intense," Anna agreed.

"That's just the beginning. He loves pushing his actors, his actresses especially. You saw what happened this morning. He could have used over a dozen of those takes. Each one of them was perfectly fine, but he kept wanting more," Edna recounted.

"Well, he got it," Anna remarked. "I've never seen Mary cry that much on command."

"Yeah, she was really on it today. She was fantastic," Edna noted.

Anna nodded and went back to her sandwich.

"So it's Thursday and you know what that means," Edna cackled happily. "Happy hour all night at Sully's! We'll probably be here for a while. What do you say we head over around 11?"

Anna blinked. "Oh. No, I can't. Sorry."

"Aww, really? We haven't gone out since you got back from London, though," Edna complained.

"I know but it's been so busy. With Mary heading to the Emmys next month, our schedule is really tight. I usually just go straight to bed when I get home," Anna mumbled.

"Right. After you have a bit of a late-night chat with the hubby, right?" Edna teased.

Anna looked down at her food. "Something like that."

"Fine, so you're bailing on going out, again, all right," Edna sighed dramatically. "You'll owe me though. You're not keeping up your end of the whole drinking buddy arrangement."

Anna laughed nervously. "Next time, yeah."

* * *

"I just…I just wasn't expecting that from him," Mary said, looking at the camera for a moment before lowering her gaze. She covered her mouth with her hand and shut her eyes before composing herself and continuing.

"I can't think of what I said that led him to believe that I was interested in him that way. He was charming and kind, and he helped me so much. He was my only friend in this whole fucking city when I first got here, but I never meant for him to think that…"

Her lip quivered. She looked away and swallowed nervously.

"If it's my mistake, if I led him on, then I'm sorry, but I'm not what he thinks I am," she whispered. "Men don't notice me, they don't think about me like that. I don't inspire anyone. How could I?"

She looked up and stared directly at the camera again.

"I'm not what he thinks I am," she repeated, closing her eyes. A tear fell down her cheek.

The silence was broken by Paul's enthusiastic applause. Mary opened her eyes and smiled, wiping her face as the director came over.

"Bon, bon!" he enthused. "That is the vulnerability that I want, the confusion, the shock. It is never as simple as Antoine is a bad man and that is it, no? It is more complicated than that. You are struggling with his behaviour and how it made you feel. You don't know how to react to it."

She nodded, following his train of thought.

"Now, this time you are the second Lily, yes? The one who is the muse, the temptress, the object of his desire, of his obsession. How would that Lily react to Antoine behaving so rashly, so hungry, so passionately?" he asked.

She tilted her head from side-to-side as she thought over her lines. "She would be pleased."

"Yes! Exact! She would be elated! Here is the artist and the muse has inspired such a strong reaction in him, has led him to the edge of madness in his fear of losing her, of losing the gift that she brings! The real Lily is scared, disgusted by him. This second Lily, though, she is loving it," Paul declared.

She nodded.

"The camera is both Antoine and the audience," Paul continued, putting his arm around her shoulders and pointing at the lens in front of her. "Show them that this is all a game to you, that you are getting what you want, that you have him exactly where you want him to be. Everyone is focused on you, all eyes on you, and you love it, you crave it, yes?"

She nodded and smiled.

"Bon! Okay, lumiére!" Paul called, patting Mary on the back, then leaving her to return to his chair.

The lights dimmed so that only a pale glow surrounded Mary.

"Moteur!" Paul ordered.

She lowered her gaze to look down at her lap.

"Action!" Paul stated crisply.

She slowly looked up, raising her chin so that she was staring directly into the lens. A wicked smile filled her face.

"Oh Antoine, no, no, no," she pouted mockingly. "There is no me without you? No, my sweet," she said sharply, shaking her head. "There is no you without me."

Paul smiled as Mary continued her monologue.

 **Playa de Izturun, Zumaia, Basque Country, Spain, August 24, 2017**

"Matthew, Rooney, over here for a second, please," the director called, waving them to the side as the crew went about preparing the set. They were filming inside one of the makeshift huts that had been built for the film. When he first arrived, Matthew marvelled at how they had built an entire village on the beach. _Shattered_ had been filmed mainly indoors at Pinewood, so shooting outdoors on-location was a bit of a new experience for him, particularly since they were on the beach.

"For this scene, I want to see a lot of tension," the director explained. "Matthew, this is the moment why you're here. You're bargaining for your sister's life and your life, negotiating with a crazy man, someone who isn't reasonable or rational. You've tried to talk some sense into him, he won't listen, and now it's come to this standoff."

Matthew nodded in understanding, glancing over at Rooney, then back to the director.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Matthew?" the director asked.

Matthew blinked. "What?"

Rooney smiled.

"A girlfriend. Do you have someone you love besides family?" the director probed.

"Umm, yeah, sure," Matthew replied, not altogether convincingly.

Rooney looked down at the sand, smirking at his discomfort.

"Okay, so when you are in that hut, sitting at the table, I want you to think of your girlfriend. Think about what you would do if Rooney was your girlfriend, all right? See, rescuing your sister is all gallant and noble, but this scene needs more drama and desperation. Think of Ben as your rival, the guy who's going to steal your girl, the guy who's going to take away the woman that you love. How far would you go to protect her? What would you be willing to do?" the director pressed.

"Anything," Matthew answered slowly, thinking of Henry, Tony, and numerous other men who had flirted with Mary over the years. "Everything."

"Exactly," the director said, going over and putting his arm around Rooney. "She's your life. You'd rather die than be without her. You've found her on this island. You've saved her from the cult. All that's left between you and freedom is Ben. This guy won't listen to reason, so you need to intimidate him, show him why he shouldn't mess with you. Go into that meeting and own it, dominate the room, save the girl, okay?"

Matthew and Rooney shared a sheepish smile as the director walked away and shouted out orders to the crew.

"Anything I can do to help?" Rooney asked. "Besides stand there breathlessly praying that you win?"

Matthew smirked and shook his head. "No, I'm good."

They headed for the hut, talking about how long the day was going to be and how lucky they were to have beautiful sunshine after it rained yesterday. He tried to stay focused on the scene and his dialogue, but the director's instructions had cued visions of Mary in his mind. It didn't necessarily help that Rooney also had long brown hair, a generally pale complexion and vibrant eyes, though hers were green as opposed to Mary's ochre brown. Mary was fairly taller too, wasn't as waifish as Rooney, and had those famous eyebrows as well.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, chastising himself for comparing his girlfriend with his co-star, and in a rather objectifying way on top of that.

"You okay?" Rooney asked, looking at him curiously.

He blinked and nodded. "Yes. I'm fine. Just trying to get into character."

"Ah. Well, good luck in there, bro," Rooney joked.

"Thanks," he said, chuckling as they went into the hut.

* * *

"This can go one of two ways – the right way, or the selfish way. If you think she's better off staying here with you than leaving with me, you pick up that gun and shoot me, and she stays. Or, you can walk away now, let her go and I won't kill you. But remember this – if you decide to shoot, don't miss. Cause I won't."

Matthew raised his chin and tilted his head, training his eyes on Ben's across the table, his stare unwavering.

Ben smiled and chuckled, nodding his head before answering.

"Well, if you insist," he rasped, his voice gravely and unnerving.

His hand shot out like a striking snake, seizing the gun and pointing it towards Matthew.

Rooney screamed on cue.

A gunshot rang out.

Ben paused for a moment, eyes wide, mouth open, choked breaths croaking out of him. The camera panned to Matthew, holding his own gun pointed at Ben.

Ben slumped forward face first on to the table with a sickening thud.

Matthew looked down at the dead man, only pulling back his gun when he was satisfied he was truly dead. "Selfish son of a bitch."

The camera panned to Rooney, breathing heavily. She came forward and stared down at her captor, her eyes wide.

Matthew stood up and took her arm. She turned away from Ben's corpse and looked at Matthew in confusion.

"Let's go," Matthew said firmly.

"Cut! That's the one!" the director called.

Ben sat up and smiled, getting to his feet as hair and makeup people came up to wash the dirt and fake blood off his face. They had filmed the scene from multiple angles so that in the final print, it would look as if the bullet from Matthew's gun went clean through Ben's forehead.

Nodding to the older actor in acknowledgment, Matthew turned, smiled at Rooney and walked out of the hut.

"So? What did you think?" he asked Lavinia when she came to his side. They walked over to the monitors to watch the playback.

"It was fine," she replied easily.

"Just fine?" he asked, smiling at her.

"I've decided to stop gushing over your performances because you aren't a new boy anymore," she explained. "You know what you're doing and so it shouldn't come as a surprise when you nail a scene. That's what you're supposed to do."

He chuckled and nodded as they reached the monitors.

"Ready, Matthew?" the editor asked.

"Yes, let's see it," Matthew replied, leaning forward and watching as they played the scene back from the beginning.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, August 25, 2017**

"You obviously don't love him, so was it just lust?"

Anna cringed and looked down at her lap, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She reached over for her glass of wine and took a sip, struggling to find the words to answer. They were into their second bottle of a delightful Alsace Riesling. A platter of sushi sat on the coffee table with just a few rolls remaining.

"Take your time," Mary said patiently. "You don't owe me an explanation, but I'm just trying to understand."

Anna nodded slowly. "No, I need to tell you. I want to tell you. I need to start piecing it all together before I tell Alex, that's for sure."

Mary sipped her wine, glancing over at Anna curled up on the other end of the sofa. She wasn't necessarily eager to have this talk, but it was days now since they left London and she knew that her best friend still hadn't told her husband about what had happened. They were quite swamped with work, yes, but delaying for much longer was not going to help.

"It wasn't lust, well, it was, I suppose, but that wasn't it. I thought he was good looking in the beginning, but never really thought of him in any kind of improper way at first. The more we spent time together, the more I saw him with all these different women, and I guess I became curious as to how he was able to attract so many of them, even ones that I thought wouldn't be into him," Anna explained.

Mary nodded.

"He reminded me of the types of guys I used to date. The ones who just used me and didn't really care. I hated them, but I found them so hard to leave. It was like the worse they treated me, the more I sort of craved their approval, or something sick like that. I honestly thought I'd gotten over all of that when I met Alex," Anna continued, glancing up at Mary finally.

"But then you had problems getting pregnant," Mary suggested.

Anna looked down and nodded. "I just felt like shit. The longer it took, the worse I felt, like I was useless and couldn't do anything right. Work was still work and that was fine. It was safe, and I knew I wouldn't screw that up. Green was in that part of my life, so he was part of my escape from all my problems. I could talk to him and laugh with him and we didn't really talk about any of my personal issues at all. I could be someone else with him, someone who wasn't a failure as a woman."

Mary sighed and looked at her sympathetically.

"I never would have even thought about sleeping with him, but as it got harder and harder to get pregnant, and especially after the miscarriage, I just felt numb, and lost, like I wasn't myself anymore. When Alex came to London, things got better, but then we had that row before he left and it all came crashing down again," Anna recited, her voice shaking a bit.

"So Green was your way of forgetting about your problems," Mary stated. "An escape."

"I know it sounds so stupid," Anna muttered.

"Yes, it does. Very stupid," Mary agreed. "But you're not the first woman to have a crisis of confidence and do something absolutely mad, sadly, believe me. The question now is what are you going to do about your marriage?"

Anna closed her eyes and shook her head. "What can I do? I have to tell him. I'll tell him and he'll divorce me and I'll try and move on eventually. I don't have any right to complain or bitch about it. I brought this all on myself, so I have to take responsibility for it, no matter how much it'll kill me."

Mary looked at her curiously. "Don't you think you aren't giving Alex enough credit?"

Anna frowned in confusion. "What do you mean? I betrayed him. I was unfaithful. Why would he want to stay with me after he finds out?"

"Well, technically you didn't commit adultery since you never had sex with Green," Mary noted.

Anna groaned. "Does it matter? It's not like I went over there just to have a chat. It's just dumb luck that we were interrupted and I was able to get away, and by Alex of all people too, which is just perfect. Saved by my husband when I was about to cheat on him. That's rich."

"When Alex called, you had already come to your senses. You didn't want to sleep with Green at that point. If anything happened, it would have been rape. That's a rather crucial distinction, don't you think?" Mary questioned.

Anna nodded. "Things could have gone very badly. But that doesn't change the fact that I went there. I went there after fighting with my husband. Instead of trying to work things out, I ran to another man. Why would Alex want a wife capable of doing that?"

"Why do you think you chose Green, of all people? I have my theories, but I want to know what you think," Mary enquired.

Anna sighed. "He was available, and he just…intrigued me. And for what I thought I needed, he was an ideal candidate."

"Because he was just going to be a dirty little secret and nothing more?" Mary suggested.

Anna frowned and dropped her head in shame. "More or less."

Mary reached out and took her hand. "Anna, you know that I love you. I think of you as a sister, and you know how unfiltered I am with my sisters."

Anna smiled mirthlessly and nodded.

"This will sound rather crass, but why do you think you looked outside your marriage for a mindless fuck? I get it. You wanted to forget yourself. But you could have done that with Alex, too. Why didn't you?" Mary asked.

Anna frowned. "Being with Alex isn't like that. He's so caring and considerate. I would feel even worse trying to use him like that."

Mary nodded in understanding. "Yes, and why do you think that is?"

"Because he's my husband," Anna replied. "That's not the way we are with each other."

Mary smiled patiently. "Precisely. I'm not saying this is going to solve your problems at all, and far be it from me to speak about marriage, but if you think about it, what you lost was the intimacy that you shared. Whether it was because you were so focused on getting pregnant, or because Alex always treats you a certain way, a part of you was attracted to Green because you wanted him to treat you in a way that your husband doesn't."

Anna blushed as she recalled her dark dreams of Green. She eventually nodded her head.

"I don't mean to embarrass you. When Matthew and I…began our arrangement, it was mainly about convenience for me. I already knew him. He was safe, available, reliable. I didn't have to bother with bars and clubs to find anyone else," Mary recalled.

Anna nodded.

"The thing was that he surprised me," Mary admitted. "He was far more confident, and direct, and powerful, than I remembered. Discovering this new side of him was thrilling, and became very addictive."

Anna smiled, remembering the gossip sessions with Mary in those early days back in Toronto.

"Even though it was a rather non-traditional way of getting back together, I'm convinced that we're far more honest and open with each other now as a result. I feel as though I could ask or tell him anything, and I'm not just talking about in the bedroom. But we are much more adventurous than we used to be, and that's why I trust him not to go and bang some slut working on one of his Armani shoots or movies. I just don't think that anyone could do for him what I do, and I can't see him looking elsewhere for anything at all."

Anna bit her bottom lip, slightly shocked but still intrigued by Mary's brazen honesty.

"Why do you trust Alex? You're here. He's across the Atlantic. You've been separated before because of work. Things weren't great when you left to come here. Why do you trust him not to cheat on you?" Mary asked.

Anna blinked. "I just do. He would never do anything like that. He's not weak like me."

"I don't know how weak either of you are, but I've seen other women look at him at parties and awards shows and such. He doesn't even see them because he's always looking at you," Mary noted.

A tear fell down Anna's cheek as she looked down.

"Of course he's going to be angry, and of course he's going to be hurt," Mary said kindly. "But he loves you. I'm not so sure he's going to cast you out. And if he doesn't, and if he's willing to work on making things better, you need to really trust him, with everything. Every dark secret, fear and desire you might have, no matter how embarrassing they may be, you have to let him in. Do that and you can build your intimacy back up to the point that anytime you even think about wanting something else, you won't need to stray, because you'll be able to find it in him. Otherwise you'll run from him again at some point, and you may not be able to save yourself a second time."

Anna leaned against the sofa, going over what Mary had said.

"And if he does cast me out?" she asked quietly.

"I pray that he doesn't, truly," Mary said, squeezing her hand. "But regardless, I'll be here. We'll get through this, no matter how much alcohol and ice cream it takes."

Anna laughed and cried at the same time.

"I'm not sure that Matthew will appreciate you supporting the slut who ruined his best friend's life," Anna sniffled.

"Don't call yourself that," Mary scolded her. "Matthew cares about you, just as I care about Alex. We both want you to stay together, but if you don't, we'll figure out a way for all of us to coexist, just like you and Alex did when Matthew and I broke up. Anyway, what we think hardly matters at a time like this."

"He still wants children," Anna whispered, staring vacantly at the sofa. "He still wants children and I can't give him any. Even if he forgives me somehow, how can we possibly get past that?"

"I couldn't begin to know what to tell you," Mary answered. "But I don't think you should just assume anything. You need to give him a chance to have his say."

Anna nodded slowly, still staring into space. She would tell her husband everything, let him rage and shout and curse her. He would get his say, but she dreaded that they would be the last words she would ever hear from him.

 **Apartment of Matthew Crawley, Old Quarter, San Sebastián, Basque Country, Spain, August 26, 2017**

"I have to tell him, I have to," Matthew muttered, pacing back and forth across the terrace. "He deserves to know. He should know. He's her husband, don't you think he should know? No, that's no good. I waited almost a week for her to tell him and I can't wait any longer. It's my duty to tell him. Duty? No. He's always been there for me, even when…no, don't bring that up."

He groaned and put his hands behind his head, turning and looking out to sea. The sun had set a little while ago, and the bars and restaurants were getting busy. He heard music and laughter, saw couples walking along the cobbled streets holding hands, and groups of friends chatting away headed for pintxos. He wondered wryly if any of them had anything near the quandaries in their lives that he did. His girlfriend was being hounded by her parents' sex tape, while his best friend's marriage was crumbling.

Mary's song playing on his laptop summoned him inside. He crossed over to the living room sofa and sat down, touching the screen to answer her call. Despite the drama around them, seeing Mary's face pop up made him smile.

"Hello, darling," he greeted her.

"Hello, handsome," she replied, arching her eyebrow. "Going topless again, I see. You're spoiling me."

He chuckled and shook his head ruefully. "And yet it seems that you're fully clothed."

She grinned. "Well, it's early on still. Give it time."

He laughed. "How was your day?"

"A lot of fun, actually. Rather demanding, but I think I'm getting in the swing of things and understanding what Paul wants. He's been quite pleased with me as of late," she said proudly.

"And so he should be. You're the star of the movie," he beamed.

"Hardly," she scoffed. "Paul and Vincent are far more well-known over here. I'm just more notorious is all."

"Well, you'll convince them otherwise, just like you'll dazzle the audiences when the film comes out," he stated confidently.

"You're a darling and I love you," she replied. "But don't think I'm not well aware that you're just complimenting me so you can get me to give you a show later on."

He laughed and nodded shamelessly.

"Did you get a chance to talk to your father about the video Anna found?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, I haven't had any time. I'm also not entirely sure that I should just yet. Perhaps it would be best if we did our own investigation first. Dad would just try and have Green arrested or something and that wouldn't solve anything."

"Why not?" he questioned.

"Possession of the video itself isn't a crime necessarily, or at least not a very serious one," she noted. "We need to figure out whether he was actually involved in stealing the video from Dad, and if so, why, and who put him up to it?"

"You think that it was Tony?" he asked.

"I don't think so. I can't see what purpose that would serve," she admitted. "Regardless of his numerous failings, Tony is still a family friend. He wouldn't want to see Mum and Dad humiliated. What would be the point?"

"He's also probably the last man who would want to see you suffer," he noted.

She arched her eyebrow. "Well, I should hope he isn't the last man…"

He smiled and nodded. "No, he most certainly is not, that's true."

She laughed and shook her head. "Anyway, I think we should deal with that ourselves in due time. There's no real urgency. Green doesn't know we found him out. When you come up here, we can put our heads together."

"I like the sound of that," he teased. "Heads together, hands together, hips together, it's all good."

She rolled her eyes. "You can be such a child. Honestly, though, we just had sex not five days ago."

"Yes, exactly," he answered, looking at her pointedly.

She looked down and grinned. "So insatiable."

"And proud of it," he retorted. "Darling, I wanted to talk to you about something serious, actually, at the risk of ruining your good mood."

She raised her head and looked at him suspiciously. "Did you?"

He nodded. "Now hear me out, please. I know that Anna's your best friend, and she's dear to me too, but Alex is my best friend. He's always been there for me, and the least that I can do is be just as loyal to him in return."

She nodded. "Yes, go on."

He took a deep breath. "It's been five days now. I think I've waited quite a while, just as I promised you that I would. I don't want to interfere or make things difficult for Anna, but I have to tell Alex. Keeping him in the dark isn't fair, and I know you'll think that I'm just worried about him being angry with me for keeping this from him, but quite apart from that, I want to tell him. As his friend, I owe it to him to let him know what happened. I hope you can understand that. I don't mean to make you angry or disappoint you, but this is something I must do."

She looked at him for a moment, then smiled. "All right."

"Now, just listen, hear me out. You know that I would never go against you if I didn't…wait, what?" he stopped, frowning at her in confusion.

She chuckled. "You can go ahead and tell him darling, but I'm afraid he already knows, or at least, he will before you get in touch with him."

He blinked. "Really?"

She nodded and became serious once more. "Anna called him. Well, they've been talking and texting all week but she didn't mention anything to him because she was trying to figure out how to bring it up. There's still a lot of tension between them over how they left things in London. Anyway, I had a long chat with her last night and she asked him to come to Paris. He's flying in tomorrow."

"Oh," he mumbled. "Well, that's good."

"Not necessarily," she sighed ruefully. "However, it's the type of conversation that needs to be done face-to-face. I just hope they keep calm, but I doubt they will."

"There's going to be a lot of tears and yelling, I'm afraid," he agreed. "I can't even imagine how I would react if you confessed something like that to me."

She arched her eyebrow at him. "Me confess to you? If anyone is going to cheat on anyone it's you on me."

"Excuse me?" he sputtered. "You're the only woman I've slept with in the past ten years. Why would I be the one to cheat on you?"

"Because you're the hot new actor on the scene," she countered. "You've got all these models and actresses paying attention to you now. Your head must be spinning with all the offers and possibilities."

He huffed dismissively. "Is that so? And what about you? You had Mr. Golden Globe Winner chasing after you for years and now you're on the loose in Paris going out to clubs and driving rich boys wild. You've probably been invited away for a dirty weekend in St. Tropez at least a half dozen times in the past month."

"Please. It was only four times. I was in London for Edith's wedding so I wasn't around as much," she shot back.

He snorted and smiled wryly, shaking his head at her. "Right. You're in so much trouble when I get there next weekend."

She grinned, arching her eyebrow playfully at him. "You had better not be all talk."

"You know that I'm not, but I'm more than happy to remind you," he growled.

She smirked, then sat back and removed her top, revealing her black bra.

He smiled devilishly.

"Your turn," she drawled playfully, arching her eyebrow at him.

 **Apartment of Anna Smith, Le Marais, Paris, France, August 26, 2017**

Anna slowed down to a walk and coughed several times before taking a sip from her water bottle. The heat in Paris was stifling today, and the air quality had only gotten worse as a result. The government had limited the number of cars coming into the capital to help reduce pollution but her run had still proven difficult. The air felt so heavy, and it was as though she had trouble getting up to full speed.

It was strange how she noticed other couples more often these days when she was out for her jog. When Mary joined her, it was easier to not look around, but on days like today when she was out on her own, they all seemed to find her somehow. Older locals strolling with the ease of lovers who had been together for over a decade, young students kissing on park benches, tourists wandering around, delighted at being in the City of Love together. They were everywhere, which wasn't unusual for Paris, but seeing them hurt her all the same.

She reached her building and headed for the stairs, bypassing the lift as usual. She slowly made her way up, the sounds of the early evening floating about as she crossed each floor. Laughter. Jovial conversation. Children playing. Her fellow tenants were mostly older families. There were very few students or even single young professionals. It was an upper class building of people who had moved on to more stable lives, to building something permanent.

Where she was supposed to be.

She didn't really dread being alone. She was alone before she met Alex. She wouldn't miss his money. She had a decent amount of her own. She would miss not being able to raise a family of her own, but she was trying not to think about that. It was moments like these that she would miss the most. Coming home to her husband waiting for her, dinner on the hob, a bottle of wine open and ready to be enjoyed. She would miss his welcoming arms and playful kiss, how he asked about her day with genuine interest. She would miss being his wife.

She finally reached the top floor and came out into the hallway, her legs burning almost as much as the tears welling in her eyes. The sweet smells of dinner greeted her as she moved down the hall. The French certainly loved their food. She imagined kitchens full of all manner of lovely delicacies, fine wine and gorgeous pies, tarts or crêpes for dessert. A particularly pleasant scent wafted over to her – a roast of some sort, surely, rosemary and thyme, maybe. She sighed as she reached her apartment and stepped inside.

Her senses jumped when she passed into the foyer. There was music playing and the kitchen fan was running. She wandered down the hall and saw the lights were on, the delicious smells she'd first detected in the hallway were filling her apartment.

She swallowed and her heart clenched when she came around to the doorway.

"Hi," Alex said plainly, glancing over at her before going back to basting the roast in the pan on the hob.

"Hi," she replied. "How did you get in here?"

"I got a key from the property manager," he answered, not looking up. "The lease is in my name."

She blinked. "Right. Of course."

"You were out for a run?" he asked, keeping the distance between them.

"Yeah. It wasn't much of one. Too hot, really," she replied.

"Mmm," he answered.

"Dinner smells good," she noted.

"Hope so. My French is a bit rusty, but I'm pretty sure I got the butcher to give me the cut of meat I wanted. It'll be pretty obvious if it turns out to be venison or something."

"Yours is better than mine, that's for sure," she remarked.

"Mmm."

"Umm, well, I'm going to jump in the shower. We can talk after," she suggested.

He didn't look up. "Dinner first. Then we can talk."

"Sure," she said. She paused for a moment to see if he would offer to join her. He didn't.

She didn't start crying until after the water was running so he couldn't hear her sobs.


	14. Chapter 14

**Previously:**

 **Apartment of Anna Smith, Le Marais, Paris, France, August 26, 2017**

"Dinner smells good," she noted.

"Hope so. My French is a bit rusty, but I'm pretty sure I got the butcher to give me the cut of meat I wanted. It'll be pretty obvious if it turns out to be venison or something."

"Yours is better than mine, that's for sure," she remarked.

"Mmm."

"Umm, well, I'm going to jump in the shower. We can talk after," she suggested.

He didn't look up. "Dinner first. Then we can talk."

"Sure," she said. She paused for a moment to see if he would offer to join her. He didn't.

She didn't start crying until after the water was running so he couldn't hear her sobs.

 **Chapter 14:**

 **Chanel Cambon, Rue Cambon, Paris, France, August 26, 2017**

Mary turned slightly to her right, evaluating her figure from the numerous angles of the multiple mirrors set up around her. Her stylist had set aside three different Chanel gowns for her to consider wearing to next month's Emmys, as well as a few outfits for the parties during the week. Tonight, after a ten-hour day on set, she finally had time to go over them all. It helped that she was in the very home of the distinguished fashion house, with a staff at the ready to ensure all necessary alterations were made to her satisfaction.

Normally, she was extremely careful with her choices, not wanting to be too trendy or too traditional. She left the cleavage baring and high leg-slit monstrosities to others, kept to a normal range of colours and never went for anything so completely out of line with what was considered in-season at the time. She usually preferred elegant and refined, and this approach had served her well so far. For the most part, the fashion media adored her, and even with her star falling in Hollywood, a chance to walk one of the most watched red carpets of the year would bring all eyes upon her once more.

She wasn't in a normal, or usual kind of mood tonight, though.

Whether it was the lingering bitterness of being exiled to France, the surprise of being nominated again for an Emmy after how this year had gone for her, or just being fed up with playing by someone else's rules, she had instructed her stylist to go in a different direction this year. She wanted edgy and daring, but not trying too hard; sexy, but not slutty; and above all, memorable.

All of the industry heads and studio executives who had turned their backs on her would be at the parties during the week and at the gala ceremony on the Sunday. They would play the usual game, smiling and greeting her enthusiastically, sharing cheek kisses and telling her that they would be in touch with Aunt Rosamund to discuss a new project that was "just perfect" for her. Meanwhile, there would be whispers about how she was forced to work on a French film with a budget in the low seven figures and no American distribution, and her rivals would wonder aloud whether they'd seen the last of her in Hollywood.

Well, she was going to give them something to talk about all right, if only for one evening.

A smile crossed her lips as she admired how the blood red gown bared one shoulder and most of her back, then swept down her body in sleek lines, raising her breasts, flattening her stomach, flaring at her hips and bottom, and sharpening her legs. It wasn't skin-tight, or even as constricting as a mermaid dress, but still caressed her curves the way she wanted, sophisticated, but sultry.

She inclined her head, placed her hand on her hip, and glanced back over her shoulder at her reflection, imagining how she would look in front of the Microsoft Theater in a few weeks. Her smile turned into a grin.

Taking out her phone, she snapped a quick shot of her pose and sent it to Matthew. Normally, she would keep him guessing like the rest of the world, but she needed his reaction to know if this dress was a contender or not. He wasn't much for fashion, notwithstanding he was an Armani model, and he loved everything she wore, but there were varying degrees to his admiration, and that would tell her all she needed to know.

His reply was instantaneous. She laughed and covered her mouth as she read his message. Rather that answer in words, he sent her three emojis – smiling face with heart eyes, grinning face, and smiling devil face.

"He approves," she said smugly, heading over to the rack to try on a black sleeveless cocktail dress that stopped above her knees.

As she began to undress, she spared a thought for a decidedly more serious trial going on across the city, and hoped it was going as well as could be hoped for.

 **Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Le Marais, Paris, France, August 26, 2017**

"Say something," Anna begged, the tears falling down her cheeks. "Say something, please."

Alex's shoulders tensed, his back to her. He had sat still during the beginning of her confession, but as she delved deeper into her relationship with Green – the friendly start, the flirting, meeting Rachel, the dancing, and the texting back and forth. He had risen from his chair and begun pacing, finally stopping at the window and staring outside as revealed the dreams she had and how she got drunk and went to his flat the night that Alex left for Toronto, finishing with all that happened there, and didn't happen.

He slowly turned around to face her, his eyes narrow, his face stone. "He didn't touch you?"

She blinked and shook her head. "No. He never touched me. He wanted to, but I used your call as an excuse to escape."

"And did you want him to?" he asked, stepping towards her. "Touch you?"

She pursed her lips and cowered a bit, feeling very small sitting on the sofa with him standing in front of her. "I…I did, when I first got there. Not after I found the videos and the photos. After that, I just wanted to get out, but I thought he had me trapped, until you called."

"But why? You found the videos, you uploaded them, you could have stayed, gotten what you wanted from him, then left after," he said coldly.

She cringed. "I didn't realize how sick he was, how horrible, all those photos he took of me and other women. It was disgusting."

"But wasn't that why you wanted him? Because he could get so many women? You wanted to feel that – the danger, the risk, being fucked by a real man, right? A real stud. An alpha. A bull. Someone who would tie you up and treat you like his own personal fuck doll, am I right?" he sneered, his voice rising as he launched his accusations at her. "Someone exciting who would boss you around, someone who wouldn't actually respect you? Someone different from me?"

She sobbed and looked down at her lap, her hands shaking. "No. That's not why. I didn't compare him to you. Never."

"You didn't compare him to me?" he repeated in disbelief. "You went to go have sex with another man just hours after I left London and you're saying it had nothing to do with me?"

"No, that's not what I meant," she whinged, frowning in despair. "It wasn't about finding someone better than you."

"Just someone different," he spat. "Someone to give you something I couldn't."

"No, it's not that you couldn't! You don't understand," she whimpered.

"Then help me understand!" he shouted. "Explain to me what happened! Explain to me how, when I gave you space, gave you time, let you move to Paris without me, spent a week with you in London where I thought we were starting to get back to being us, and after one fight, you do what you did! Explain that!"

She lowered her eyes and looked away.

"I just…I didn't think. I wanted to just forget everything and escape from my life and that's what I thought I needed, so I just did it," she choked out.

He stared at her for a moment before turning away again and shaking his head. "You just did it. For fuck's sake, Anna!"

She thought he was going to hit something, throw something, break something, do something to unleash the fury that was obviously coursing through him. It was a lame excuse that she offered, not even an excuse at all, but she had to forge ahead. She had gotten it all out, and now so had he, and they were left exactly where she expected they would be.

Broken.

"I'll come back and get my things in a few weeks, after the Emmys are over," she whispered, her voice robbed of all energy. "I don't want any money. You won't have to pay support or anything. Mary may not move back to Toronto after this film is done, so you may not even have to see me again."

He looked back at her, a scowl on his face. "What? What the fuck are you talking about?"

She blinked. "I can't come back any earlier. We're filming here straight through until we fly to California. You can have your lawyers draw up whatever papers I need to sign in the meanwhile. It'll be straightforward, I expect. I just want some of the art from the house, but if you don't want me to have them, then I won't."

He turned around and stared at her for a moment before closing his eyes and grimacing, wiping his face with both hands. He growled in frustration.

She swallowed in fear. He would never hit her, she knew that, even now, but did he have other demands? What else could he want from her?

"Anna," he said tiredly, finally opening his eyes. "I'm not divorcing you."

Her mouth fell open. "What?"

He looked up at the ceiling. "I'm not divorcing you. I don't want a divorce."

"But," she blurted out, her pulse jumping. "I betrayed you! I tried to cheat on you!"

"But you didn't actually cheat," he noted, looking at her again, his face still tight and angry. "You stopped yourself, almost too late, but you didn't cheat."

"But my…dreams…I fantasized about being with him," she said, her stomach rolling at bringing it up again.

He sighed wearily. "Anna, you're married, you're not a nun. Being attracted to other men isn't adultery, and as much as I wish you didn't have these dreams, it sounds like they may not have been entirely enjoyable for you anyway. Besides, they're just dreams. It isn't as if you can control them, and even if you could, so what? It happens. The real betrayal is when you act on them, and you began to, but didn't go through with it."

She shook her head and even tugged on her ear to make sure she was hearing right. "You…you don't think that I did anything wrong?"

"I never said that," he retorted, glaring at her. "How would you feel if you found out that I tried to sleep with another woman?"

She swallowed and lowered her eyes. "It would kill me."

"Yeah, exactly," he huffed. "You did plenty wrong. You disrespected me, our marriage, everything that we've built together for so many years. But I'm not divorcing you."

She sniffled, wiping her eyes, only for fresh tears to pour forth. "You can't do this. You're better off without me. Just let's just get it over with! We can't move past it, we can't!"

"What are you talking about?" he demanded. "Yeah, it's going to take me a while to get over this, but I will. I'm not throwing away our marriage over this."

"But I'm ruined by it!" she pleaded. "How can you even think that we'll ever be able to have a normal relationship after this? Won't you wonder what I'm thinking about when we're together? Won't you be too turned off by it to touch me, to be with me?"

He scoffed ruefully and rolled his eyes. "Anna, I've told you a million times. I've always wanted you. That hasn't changed."

"But how?" she sobbed. "How can this not affect you?"

"Actually, thinking about you and Green makes me want to fuck the hell out of you so that you forget all about him," he said wryly. "It's not going to be the same between us for a while, but this doesn't turn me off of you. That would take a lot more than this."

"Oh God!" she wailed, curling her knees up to her chest and burying her face in her crossed arms.

"What the fuck?" he muttered, frowning at her in confusion for a moment before he went over and sat down next to her.

"How can you be so forgiving?" she gasped, crying uncontrollably. "How can you still say you want me? I can't be the wife you deserve anymore! Just give up! Please!"

He waited while she shook from crying. Though he was still angry and disappointed with her, he couldn't condemn her entirely. Losing their baby had affected her profoundly, he knew that. He just hadn't realized how troubled she really was. He thought that by suggesting therapy, that would help speed up her recovery, but she obviously wasn't in the right frame of mind yet, and what happened in London had proven that. If only they hadn't fought, maybe she wouldn't have been such a wreck that night. If only they hadn't fought, maybe she never would have gone to Green at all.

A sudden thought pierced through the red mist in his head and he watched her carefully for a moment, piecing together recent memories that he hadn't paid as much attention to before.

"Anna," he called. "Anna, look at me."

She raised her head and sniffled, the tears still staining her cheeks.

He reached over to the coffee table for the tissue box and handed it to her.

She took several tissues and wiped her eyes and mouth, then blew her nose rather loudly.

"What's the real problem?" he asked, holding her gaze. "What's really going on here? Why are you so adamant that I deserve someone better than you? Why would you say that after I already told you that I can get past what you did?"

"I'm a mess," she muttered. "There's other women out there who wouldn't be so much work for you."

"No, you don't get to do that," he replied firmly. "You don't get to use my anger and your guilt to get out of this. Do you want a divorce? Do you want to leave me?"

"It would be better for you, though," she croaked.

"No, I already said it's not happening, not from me," he retorted. "So what's up? You want a divorce? You want to go after this sick fuck again?"

"No!" she whinged. "I don't want to leave you, I just…"

"Don't you dare say I'll be better off without you, understand?" he interrupted her. "There are many things about our marriage that have never been easy. When we were long distance in the beginning, that wasn't easy. Getting married in London and trying to coordinate everyone flying in, that wasn't easy. Your work schedule has never been easy. Dealing with you mum hasn't been easy. None of those things stopped me before. You're my wife. I'm not divorcing you."

"Oh God, what the hell is wrong with you?" she shouted. "All those things were small. They might have seemed big at the time, but they weren't, not really. This is a fucking huge mountain now."

He opened his mouth to oppose her, but paused, watching her about to burst into tears again.

"You're not talking about Green at all, are you?" he questioned.

She whimpered and looked away.

"When you say I deserve someone better, you don't mean someone who can be faithful, you mean someone who can give me children," he pressed.

She gasped and shut her eyes, a sob pouring from her lips.

"Anna, there's nothing wrong with you. Dr. Ryder already confirmed it," he reiterated, lowering his voice from a snarl to a statement.

"There is something wrong with me! I'm terrified to even try now! I can't stand the thought of losing another one, and I can't stand the thought of failing you again!" she cried. "If you leave me, you still have plenty of time to have the family that you want, you'll be so much better off. You'll have everything you deserve, everything you want."

"Except you," he added, looking at her carefully.

"Oh, you don't need me," she denied. "I'm so fucked up and I can't give you children. Why would you bother?"

He stared at her for a long moment. Finally, he let out what sounded like a cross between a laugh and a huff.

"You know, for one of the smartest women I know, you can be really stupid," he noted, glaring at her, fury still coiling inside of him.

She looked at him in shock and confusion.

"Even if you couldn't give me children, and it's an 'if' because you still can, you think that I wouldn't want you anymore? You think that I only married you for your ovaries?" he demanded. "You think that I'm that shallow, that superficial, that's what you think? Fucking hell, Anna!"

She shook her head. "No! I just think it would be better…"

"Don't fucking tell me I would be better off without you! Holy fuck!" he shouted, getting up to his feet again. He put his hands behind his head and groaned, his entire body tensed up until he willed himself to relax. When he turned around to look at her again, his eyes were blazing, but his voice was calm.

"What if it was me, huh?" he asked. "Let say the same thing happened, and Dr. Ryder said it was because I was sterile. You'd divorce me and go find yourself a husband who could give you babies? You'd leave me because of that?"

She blinked. "No, no, of course I wouldn't," she said, her voice strong once more.

"Then why do you think I would?" he snarled, throwing his hands in the air.

She bit her bottom lip and recoiled into the sofa.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking at her and continuing.

"You're my wife," he said firmly. "If we can't have children, then we'll adopt, or use a surrogate, or sponsor a village in Africa, or whatever. I never said that I wanted children. I said I wanted children _with you_. How many times do I have to fucking say it before you understand that there's no me at all, there's no family, there's no life without you?"

Her eyes went wide and her breath caught.

"If I wanted a wife who obeyed everything I said, I would have gotten a mail-order bride. If I wanted a wife to pop babies for me, I would have found someone with a family history of having kids by the dozens. If I wanted someone easy to deal with, I wouldn't have fallen in love with a woman who lived an entire ocean away from me," he ranted, gesturing with his arms in what would have been a rather comical fashion, if not for the weight of what they were discussing.

"This is a shitty time for you, for both of us," he said, coming back over to her. "It may seem to you like you're alone, but I haven't felt like myself since _we_ lost _our_ baby, either. I'm not sure of what to say, I have no idea what to do, I sometimes feel like everything I touch is going to turn bad."

She covered her mouth and nodded slightly.

"But this, this time, this horror that we're living right now, it's not going to go on forever. Someday very soon, we're both going to feel better. There's no magic to it, and it's going to take a ton of work, but someday, everything is going to be so much better. I know it will. And there is no fucking way I'm going to give up now and walk away, when the best times of our lives are ahead of us," he finished, looking at her intently. "You're not getting rid of me just because you think it's the selfless thing to do. You don't get to decide how much I'm willing to put up with. I decide that, and love, I can put up with a hell of a lot more than this, believe me. I'm stronger than that."

She felt something bloom in her chest and fill her, a mix of relief, wonder, fear and a tiny bit of joy.

He held out his hands to her.

She stared at them for a long while, her own hands shaking as she lifted them up and took hold of his.

He pulled her to her feet and hugged her tight. She cried against him, shutting her eyes and spilling her tears into his shirt.

"I love you," he said softly. "I'm super pissed at you right now, and part of me wants to track down Green and beat the shit out of him, but I still love you. We're going to get through this, even if I have to drag your ass along the entire way."

She clung to him so hard and for so long that when he finally scooped her up and carried her to bed, she had no strength left. They changed and fell asleep without speaking. When she woke up the next morning, he was spooned behind her as usual, his arm over her front. She was still terrified for what might come, but despite herself, she also felt a glimmer of hope.

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, August 29, 2017**

"So he's staying?" Mary asked, sipping her water.

Anna nodded. "He only brought about a week's worth of clothes, but he'll do some shopping. He works from the apartment or goes out to a café if he wants a change, but he can do everything he needs from his computer – video conferences, emailing documents back and forth, whatever. His French is 1000 times better than mine, so it's nice that he's here."

Mary glanced over at her assistant for a moment. A slow smirk crossed her lips.

"What?" Anna asked, catching her smug expression.

"Nothing. I just think it's sweet that he wants to stay here after all that's happened," Mary noted. "And it seems that you like him keeping close watch over you," Mary declared.

Anna smiled. "Yeah, I do, rather. I'm trying to worry less about everything and just live in the moment. We're still not good. It would be stupid to think we would be so soon, but he's there every night when I get home, and he's really not been any different at all. He doesn't ask me where I'm going when I leave, or demand to know when I'll be back. He hasn't been checking my phone or insisting that I report in to him every few hours or anything like that. He doesn't even go out drinking on his own. There are times that we're almost normal with each other, but we're not there yet."

"And what about your sleeping arrangements?" Mary asked.

Anna sighed. "We share the same bed still, but we…haven't…yet. We've barely kissed beyond just hello and goodbye. I'm not saying that I deserve even that, but I want to start making things up to him, and that's one area where, well, I could. I…I'll do anything he wants, but he hasn't tried for anything."

"Maybe that's his problem," Mary suggested. "He doesn't want you to just placate him, or do anything as a punishment."

"I know he doesn't, but getting over everything that happened will take a lot of effort, and I want to do my part," Anna groaned.

"It's also going to take time, and you can't rush it, regardless of your best intentions," Mary replied. "See about just talking to him first, being open and honest. Really honest. You may not want to, and he might not want to hear it, but if you want to get back to where you were, you have to communicate, not just wait for him to jump you when he's finally in the mood."

Anna nodded. "When's Matthew getting in next week?"

Mary smiled at the mere mention of his name. "Saturday night after nine. He's filming in the morning and flying out late afternoon to get here."

"So you'll be unreachable all weekend?" Anna noted with a smile.

"He'll want to see Alex, I expect. So we'll emerge at some point," Mary answered.

* * *

Mary looked around her and shuddered, each painting more frightening than the next. They were all portraits of her, many of them nudes even though she hadn't posed with her clothes off. Her lip quivered and she stopped when she saw a covered canvas on an easel at one end of the studio. Walking slowly over to it, she pursed her lips and looked at it fearfully. She raised her hand to take hold of the white sheet, stopped and drew her hand back, before finally sweeping the sheet down to look at the painting.

It was another portrait of her, however this one had huge red streaks across it.

She backed up, covering her mouth with her hand. Drawing in a sharp breath, she stared at the gruesome sight and cried.

"Cut!" Paul shouted from his director's chair. "Okay, we go again!"

From off the set, Anna frowned, watching as a crew member came forward and covered the painting again, while others made sure the rest of the set was unchanged from the previous take. They had been going on for near on an hour now, and she couldn't honestly tell what the difference was between one take to another. Mary didn't have any dialogue in this scene. It was all about Lily's gradual breakdown upon discovering Antoine's paintings of her. Mary had played it numerous ways – ranging from aloof and angry at first to horrified and despondent at the end – and Paul had never made any comment. He just stopped the scene at the end of each take and made her do it all over again.

Normally, Mary would speak up if she thought things were getting out of hand. As an actress, she would follow along for a while, but eventually she would need direction as to why she was being asked to repeat something an inordinate amount of times. There didn't seem to be any technical difficulties at all that would require them to run the scene again. It all was according to Paul's unknown and uncompromising whims.

Mary walked back to her mark, not a word spoken, not a frown or even an arched eyebrow piercing her cold veneer. She glanced over at Paul for a moment, but her eyes weren't defiant like Anna expected. They seemed almost expectant, eager.

"Lumière!" Paul called.

Mary looked away from him and waited for his order.

* * *

Anna looked up when she heard the firm knock on the door to Mary's trailer.

"Come in," Mary called, not looking up from her tablet.

The door opened and Paul stepped in.

" _Marie_ , ah, hello, Anna," the director said, nodding his head and smiling.

Anna nodded politely in acknowledgment.

"Did you have any more thoughts on this afternoon's scene?" Mary asked.

"No, no, I will see what you do," he replied. "There is a première on Saturday that I want you to come to. It is a big event, will be a nice way to get the papers talking about our film, and about you. I'll have my girl give Anna the details."

"Saturday, is it?" Anna asked, glancing over at Mary.

"Yes, Saturday night," he confirmed. "Wear something nice, something that will grab people's attention. My driver will pick you up and we'll arrive together."

Mary nodded. "All right."

He smiled and nodded to Anna again before leaving.

"Saturday night is when Matthew arrives," Anna noted once they were alone again.

"Yes, but he can find his way into the city," Mary said easily. "Paul's right. A premiere will get me noticed by the entertainment media here and build some buzz for the film. You know how easy these things are. We'll be in and out and I'll meet Matthew back at my place afterwards."

Anna nodded and made a note of the new appointment on her phone. She looked over at Mary again. She was right. It was a nice promotional opportunity for her. Hopefully it would be quick and Matthew wouldn't have to wait long.

 **Cinema UGC Normandie, Champs Elysées, Paris, France, September 2, 2017**

Paul moved them along at his own pace, sometimes complying with the numerous requests for photos and interviews, other times ignoring them. He kept his arm across Mary's waist, smiling and waving at those in the mob that he knew, turning this way and that seemingly at random. Mary followed his lead, smiling and nodding along, going where he went, standing at his side as he gave his interviews in French.

The film premiere, for a French movie from the same studio as _The Muse_ , and directed by one of Paul's friends, was a big event. Part of the street in front of the theatre was closed and there were screaming fans and paparazzi stationed behind barriers to give everyone room to walk. It had been a while since Mary had attended an event that didn't involve her at all. With the weather still warm and pleasant, she chose a navy sleeveless dress with thin straps and a fringed skirt that stopped at mid-thigh. To ensure she didn't look that much taller than Paul, she wore flats rather than heels. She completed her outfit with Matthew's bracelet and a matching set of earrings. She didn't want to outdo the cast from the film, but she wasn't going to show up in jeans and a sweater either.

"This is _Marie_ Crawley, the star of my next film," Paul said in French, smiling and nodding to the reporter.

"Ah, yes! With Vincent Cassel also, and you are dealing with the artist's inspiration, no?" the reporter asked breathlessly.

"With obsession, yes," he replied, smiling at Mary. "And who better to play the lead? You can imagine men being obsessed with her, no?"

He laughed and gestured towards Mary. She smiled and laughed along with him.

The reporter switched to English. "How is it to work with Paul for you? Is it different from your other work?"

"I always think every project is different," Mary replied in French, surprising the reporter. "Paul is unique. There's no one like him. I'm learning a lot and really enjoying myself. We can't wait for everyone to see the film next year."

Paul exchanged a few more pleasantries before continuing on, his arm still around her.

"How am I doing?" she asked, smiling at him.

"Good," he answered. "You are good. I am pleased."

He looked at her for a moment and smiled while the next wave of photographers fired away.

She held his gaze and smiled back.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, September 2, 2017**

"I've got you out of Tuesday as well, so you won't need to be back here until Wednesday afternoon," Lavinia said, her voice coming in crisp and clear over his headset.

"That's great. Thanks," Matthew replied, smiling and nodding. He stared out the window of Mary's apartment. Her place was high enough that he could see over the tops of the old buildings around him and across Paris, the city lit up and vibrant on a Saturday night. "I really appreciate you arranging it for me."

"Not a problem. You are away quite a bit this month, but it just means you'll have to put in some longer days, is all," she answered. "And you owe me a very good bottle of wine and a box of macarons from Pierre Hermé."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, laughing. "And yes, I'll send you photos before I buy them."

"Good. Don't be like Dave and bring me passion fruit. Ugh, I couldn't get the taste out of my mouth for days," she complained.

"I never knew you were so particular about your pastries," he joked.

"I know what I want, Matthew," she replied.

"Apparently. All right, I'll text you, probably on Monday," he promised.

"Good night. Have fun!" she signed off.

He hung up the call and put his phone away. It was well over an hour past the time that Mary said she would be home, but he wasn't surprised. Movie premieres were never as straightforward or fast as scheduled or expected. They always started late, there was always a rush to get in closer to showtime, and there was always an after-party.

He went into the kitchen and opened the fridge, pleased to see that she had stocked up on a few staples for him, or most likely had Anna do it for her. There was Cherry Coke, seedless grapes, Jambon de Paris, and a sushi platter. Chocolate croissants and French baguettes were stored on the counter. He smiled, thinking they had a decent amount of food to make sure they wouldn't have to leave the apartment all weekend, which was exactly what he had in mind.

Grabbing a Coke, he went back out to the living room and over to the small terrace. It would have been nice if she was already here when he arrived, but the premiere had just come up suddenly and he knew how important it was for her to attend these things, especially now with her profile at a low. He sipped his Coke and took out his phone. The French entertainment websites already had coverage of the premiere posted, and though his spoken French was very rusty, he could still listen and comprehend decently enough.

 _'The famed director, Paul Chaput, was also in attendance to support his old friend. Accompanying him was the British actress, Mary Crawley, who is the star of his next film, The Muse. The two have been working closely in Paris for months now, and M. Chaput and his leading lady are both eager for the film to debut next year. A regular on the club and nightlife scene in Paris over the summer, Lady Mary will no doubt be back for the premiere, where all eyes will be on her first foray into French cinema.'_

He smiled at the brief video of Mary walking the red carpet at the movie theatre. Her sleeveless dress and short skirt put her toned arms and long legs on display, and her usually pale skin even had a slight touch of colour. The French media seemed to be guardedly pleased with her, having spent the summer following her around a bit and not caught her emerging from a nightclub in a drunken stupor, or feeding into the old stereotype of the English being unsophisticated savages. The American websites would pick up the footage tomorrow, and though he knew it wouldn't do much for her profile over there, he still hoped it would keep her in people's minds before they flew back for the Emmys in a week.

A stirring of arousal flared inside of him. He chastised himself for the thought, but Mary's short skirt would certainly allow for rather easy access. He shook his head and tried to calm himself. First he needed her to get home. They had all weekend for such wicked pursuits.

 **Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Le Marais, Paris, France, September 2, 2017**

Anna closed the door behind her and kicked off her shoes. She came into the living room and wandered towards the kitchen. "Babes?" she called.

"Hi," Alex replied, smiling at her from what appeared to be a rather busy stove.

"Oh, I picked up sushi take-away," she stated, coming over and putting the container on the counter.

"Oh," he answered. "I made pasta. That's okay. It'll keep."

She laughed and came into his arms, giving him a quick kiss. "Day old sushi does tend to taste rather horrid."

"I was surprised to get your text," he said, still holding her. "I thought you'd be with Mary for the after party."

"She let me leave early," she replied. "I told her I would rather spend the evening with you than a bunch of French strangers."

"Ah," he said, nodding. He gave her a quick kiss, then released her to turn off the stove.

"How was your day?" she asked, getting plates from the cupboard and setting the small dining table.

"Pretty uneventful. I walked over to the Tuileries. I really want to go to the Louvre at some point," he replied.

"We can go this weekend, if you like," she noted, coming back into the kitchen. "Mary's going to be rather tied up."

He gave her a rueful smile.

She laughed and shook her head. "That's not what I meant!"

"But it might not be entirely far-fetched," he remarked.

"Babes! Stop it!" she exclaimed. "That's gross."

"I'm not the one who brought it up," he pointed out, laughing at her.

"Getting back to the Louvre," she stated pointedly. "I'll see about getting line passes for us. We can go through in the morning and maybe have a bit of a picnic for lunch."

He nodded. "You can show me around."

"Oh, I haven't been yet, so it'll be something we can discover together," she answered, getting a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"You haven't been?" he questioned, looking over at her.

She stopped at the doorway to the kitchen and smiled sheepishly at him. "It just didn't feel right to go without you."

She went on through and he stared after her, frozen for a moment before he followed behind.

 **Mandarin Oriental Hotel, Paris, France, September 2, 2017**

Mary sipped her Martini and bobbed her head to the beat of the music. The after party was in full swing, with flashing coloured lights and large bunches of flowers and balloons giving the ballroom a festive mood. In keeping with the adult theme of the film, the servers were all scantily glad, both men and women going topless and wearing masquerade masks. It was unlike any after party she had been to, and she had been to plenty.

Another adoring guest – this time a producer – came to Paul's private booth to say hello and share a funny story. As he had been doing since they arrived, Paul introduced the man to Mary, and eventually dismissed him with a wave of his hand and a smile. There was a steady line of people who came to pay homage to Paul through the evening – actors, actresses, executives and even the odd fan who had somehow gotten in. He was almost a bigger star than the cast and director that he had come to support. Mary sat at his side, the rest of the table filled with friends of his, most of whom seemed to be here just to laugh at his jokes. The drinks and scrumptious hors d'oeuvres were delivered steadily without their having to request them. It was all rather thrilling for Mary, to be able to observe this part of the French industry, to be at an event where no one was really focused on her. It was refreshing, and she didn't mind, enjoying the glimpse of her director holding court.

"What did you think of the film?" Paul asked, turning to her and smiling.

"It was interesting. A bit on the gratuitous side," she replied, arching her eyebrow at him and sipping her Martini.

He laughed and nodded. "Lucien prefers to live on the reckless side of caution. He would rather add an extra hour of footage and be told to cut it down, than not shoot enough and feel his movie was lacking."

"He thought the threesome scene was necessary to tell his story, did he?" she joked, smiling at him.

He chuckled. "I hope you were not shocked by how graphic it all was."

She laughed and shook her head. "It will take a great deal more than that to shock me."

He sipped his drink. "I expect it would, yes."

She glanced down at her phone and frowned slightly at the time.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I have to go. I have someone waiting for me," she replied.

"Ah, all right. Wait another ten minutes before you go," he ordered.

She arched her eyebrow. "But why?"

"The photographers are circulating one last time before leaving for the night. If you leave now, they will miss you. Wait ten minutes and they will have another photo of you here and another one when you leave. Every moment counts, no?" he explained.

She blinked and nodded.

"Bon," he smiled, putting his arm around her shoulders and looking up to greet an enthusiastic older woman who was wearing far too much makeup.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, September 2, 2017**

"You owe me a new dress. That one's ruined," Mary drawled, snuggling against Matthew and kissing his chest.

"Ruined? The stains will come out, I'm sure," he replied, stroking her back.

"The stains might come out, but the tear can't be mended. It's too conspicuous," she retorted.

"Oh. Well perhaps the repair can be made a part of the design. Maybe it'll give it a whole new look?" he suggested cheekily.

"Ah yes, new from Dior for 2018 – the 'my boyfriend tore my clothes off' look," she deadpanned.

"Or, more accurately the 'showing off my legs for days' look – drive your boyfriend to madness," he shot back.

"Madness, hmm? Well, you were rather untamed," she recalled, chuckling as she ran her leg up and down his. "I don't even want to know what my hair must look like."

"It looks very nice to me," he replied. "Very nice, indeed."

He reached up and caressed her neck, drawing her in for a heated kiss.

"Mmm, I'm so glad you're here," she sighed, settling down against him.

"I'm glad to be here," he answered.

Her hand moved down to take hold of him. "Very glad, it seems," she teased.

"Of course," he replied. "We've now made love in a new city and country. It's cause for celebration."

She chuckled. "I agree. Perhaps we ought to commemorate it in a decidedly French way."

"And how's that?" he asked, intrigued and aroused as she stroked him slowly.

"Well, darling, I know that your French is a bit out of practice, but you do still know enough to understand what _soixante-neuf_ means, I hope," she whispered huskily.

"Hmm, I can't seem to recall, actually," he replied, smiling at her and quirking his eyebrow. "Care to use it in a sentence?"

She kissed him lightly. "I'll do better than that. I'll show you what it means."

He grinned in anticipation as she kissed her way down his body and turned herself around.

 **Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Le Marais, Paris, France, September 3, 2017**

Anna blinked, slowly taking in the darkness of the bedroom. The glowing red numbers on the nightstand said it was almost 2 a.m.

She dropped her head back to the pillow, stretching her legs beneath the duvet. Her husband's arm was across her waist, his strong and firm body lying behind her. How easy it would be to grind her ass back against him, turn her head and kiss him, whisper how much she wanted him inside of her right now. The familiar warmth of arousal lingered at her core, her body keenly aware of how they had gone nearly two weeks and counting without sex.

Tonight was another missed opportunity, the two of them changing and showering separately, and falling asleep together with just a small peck on the lips. Still, they had joked and laughed over dinner, talked about numerous topics both humorous and not, and enjoyed each other's company. Months ago, a night like tonight was common place, nothing particularly noteworthy. Now, it seemed like another step in a series of them, all moving towards getting them back to who they were as a couple.

She took his large hand and brought it to her lips, kissing his fingers before closing her eyes and going back to sleep. His hand settled below her breasts, her own hand holding him tight to her body.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, September 3, 2017**

"Do you know what I realized on the flight over here?" he asked, reclining against the pillows and feeding her a grape.

"Oh God, if you're going to say something completely tacky such as 'I realized how absolutely gorgeous you are' before you ravish me again, spare me," she complained. "You can skip the juvenile lines and move straight to the sex, thank you."

"You are horrid when you want to be," he stated pointedly.

"I know, but you love me, don't you?" she replied, giving him a knowing smirk.

"Madly," he answered, smiling and kissing her lightly. "Though you are able to suck all of the romance right out of the room almost as well as you suck my…"

"Matthew!" she scolded him, slapping his chest.

He laughed. "Sorry. No, I was just thinking that this is your first project in a while that involves no sex. You don't have one scene where you're taking your clothes off."

She smiled and nodded, eating another grape from his fingers. "That's very true. Not that I minded the scenes in _Paladin_ or _Shattered_ at all, especially not in _Shattered_."

He smiled and kissed her.

She ate another grape. "Yes, it's a bit refreshing to be in a movie that doesn't rely on explicit scenes like that. It's more of a mind fuck, which I think will really throw people."

"Mind fuck? How so?" he asked. "It doesn't challenge people's concepts of reality, surely?"

"Nothing on so epic a scale, no, but Paul uses dialogue and the way he films each scene, particularly the monologues, to evoke different emotions in his audience. At first people might empathize with Lily, then switch to Antoine, and back again. It creates a constantly changing narrative. It isn't as simple as Antoine is the creepy older man and Lily is the innocent naïve young woman. The way the audience perceives the story and the characters changes as more information is revealed," she set out.

"Well, I shall look forward to the mind fuck, then," he joked.

She laughed freely. "You're just glad that I'm finally doing a film where the audience doesn't get to see me in my underwear."

"Come on, I don't care about that," he scoffed. "You'd have to wear a bag over your head to stop men from fantasizing about you."

She smirked and shook her head at him. "Smooth as ever."

"I'm being serious!" he protested, smiling at her. "Isn't that part of what you've been working on in your film? How one never knows who can become obsessed with someone, or the exact reasons why? Not every man needs to see skin to become enraptured by a woman."

"So you think I'm fantasy worthy, do you?" she teased.

"One need only look at all the comments you get on social media to figure out that thousands of men all over the world think so," he stated.

"I'd rather not think about that, it's unnerving," she objected, kissing him lightly. "I'm far more interested in what's hidden away in this handsome head of yours."

He looked at her in amusement. "I think it's rather obvious."

"I do enjoy your imagination, yes, but I want to delve deeper," she declared.

"I'm not so sure there's very much depth to me on that subject," he laughed. "I want you, desperately. You know that."

"Darling, I want to know everything. I want to know your darkest, most depraved fantasy of me," she purred. "I want you to tell me what to do and I'll do it for you. This weekend is all yours."

He grunted in surprise and ended up choking a bit.

"All right, there?" she asked, amused by his reaction.

"I'm fantastic, actually. It's not every day that I have the Lady Mary Crawley at my service," he beamed.

"I am at your service," she whispered, kissing his neck and straddling him. "Your wish is my command. Unless, of course, it involves other people. I really don't want to have to find another woman to join us, and as for another man…"

"There's no need to concern yourself with that," he stopped her.

She laughed. "Good. Now, getting back to how I'll do anything you want…"

He laughed in disbelief. "I had better take advantage. I'm sure your generosity won't last."

She smiled and kissed him. "You're talking about Emmys week, aren't you?"

He blinked. "No, I was just saying…"

"You think that we'll have to pretend to be mere acquaintances again when we get to Los Angeles," she continued. "You think that Aunt Rosamund has ordered me to go alone, to maintain my appeal."

"I expect that's what she would want, but I'm not complaining," he mumbled.

"You needn't complain, no, because there shall be no pretending," she said softly, kissing him again.

"What?" he blurted out in shock.

"We're going to walk the red carpet together, sit together, attend all the parties together, and be photographed together," she recited, kissing him between each revelation. "We're going to make our debut during Emmys week. I was going to save that bit of news for Monday, but may as well get it out now."

"We are? Wow, that's amazing," he exclaimed.

"The whole world is going to know that we're together, officially," she said, grinding her hips against him. "The whole world is going to know that I'm yours. The whole world is going to know that regardless of whether I win or lose, you'll be the one fucking me later that night."

He groaned and breathed heavily, his hands taking hold of her waist.

"Aunt Rosamund objected, of course," she revealed. "But I said I would do things on my terms, and so I insisted. I'm just sorry for having to make you wait so long. Maybe if I had been more proactive before, then…"

"Shh," he interrupted. "You don't owe anything to anyone, not your parents, not your Aunt Rosamund, not me, not any studio executive. It's your career, and your decision, and I'm just happy that this one is in my favour."

She smiled. "And I have decided that I quite like the idea of finally showing my man off."

"I'll remember to brush my teeth beforehand," he teased.

"You do that," she laughed, leaning down and kissing him. His hands swept across and cupped her arse. "Now, tell me about that dirty fantasy of yours, the one you've been keeping a secret for so long?"

"If I didn't know better, I might say that your eagerness reveals something about a dark fantasy of your own, my darling," he countered.

"Mmm, serious, ambitious, career-oriented woman who's always used to being in control gives up all power in the bedroom? I think that's a rather common male fantasy, isn't it?" she challenged.

"Perhaps, but that doesn't mean it doesn't apply to you," he replied confidently. "Maybe if you tell yourself that you're just giving me what I want, that helps you reconcile it in your mind? That way, you aren't surrendering to me, but rather being generous."

"Hiding my inner submissive in a cloak of magnanimity? Now that does sound like something I would do, doesn't it?" she questioned, arching her eyebrow at him.

"I'm not too concerned about which one of these theories is right. It seems as though I end up winning in the end either way," he chuckled thickly.

"How convenient for you," she said, kissing him deeply. "So what shall be my first order?"

He grinned up at her before quickly turning her over on to her back without warning. She yelped in surprise, and he seized the opportunity to moved down her body, spread her legs, and settle himself between her thighs.

"Let's see how quiet you can be," he threatened, giving her a serious look before he dipped his head down.

She shut her eyes and grit her teeth, his lips and tongue staking their claim. Her hands moved down to the back of his head and he slapped them away, causing her to gasp in shock.

"No. Keep your hands above your head," he sneered.

She lifted her arms up to the pillows and gasped when he resumed his work.

"Eyes on me," he growled, watching her as he licked her slowly.

"Mmm, Matthew," she breathed, soon bucking her hips against his mouth.

"Try and stay quiet, darling, but if you must say something, let it be my name," he ordered, a devilish smile on his face as he went back to his task.

She moaned and turned her head into the pillows, trying to focus on a spot on the wall to keep herself anchored to some sense of reality. Her ears filled with the lewd sounds of his attentions. His hands pushed her legs back further, opening her up to him.

What little remained of her defences after their earlier two rounds crumbled before his eager mouth and fingers. She moved her hips, feeding him, assisting in her own defeat. There was an inevitability about it all that fuelled her arousal, the knowledge that obviously she wouldn't be able to resist or remain quiet for long. That wasn't the point. As he pushed her closer and closer to the edge, her lips parted and she called out his name, her voice growing more frantic by the second. The dirty addiction of powerlessness filled her head. Lady Mary Crawley did not call any man's name over and over. She certainly did not willingly lose herself so thoroughly that she would give in to anything a man asked of her. With her release beckoning, she revelled in the thrill of it all, eagerly anticipating what he had planned for her next. With the firm press of his fingers and the swipe of his tongue, he sent her flying and she shouted his name in tribute, her body shaking through another peak.

He sat up and grinned, watching his girlfriend drown in bliss, proud that he had been the one to do it. He easily moved her sapped legs to the side, turning her over on to her front. Taking her quickly from behind, he took hold of her hair with one hand and pulled her head back, his other caressing her breast in time with his thrusts. She was too weak to move with him this time, but she made up for it in the filthy words that tumbled from her mouth, urging him on. He grunted in response to her moans, the sound of their bodies coming together over and over making him delirious with lust.

Even as he added to his tally of sending her over, he kept one last shred of control to guard his last secret. Mary was right. There was a dark fantasy buried within him, one that he would never admit to her. It didn't involve acrobatics, or props, or having her act like an innocent or a whore. It wasn't about dominance, or roleplaying, or seeing how many positions they could try in one evening. It was a fantasy about the two of them, in bed together just like this, making love as they were now. The key difference, the heart of his secret, were the rings she wore on her left hand as he took her, the rings that sparkled in the light as she held on to him through their incredible sex, the rings that he put on her finger when they became husband and wife. He was creative enough to make up a bunch of fantasies on the spot, come up with enough new things for them to try this weekend so that Mary's curiosity would be assuaged. None of it though, no matter how depraved or decadent, would come close to his ultimate fantasy – to make love to Mary on their wedding night, to have her as his wife for the first time.

Sometimes when she was in a playful mood like she was tonight, he considered admitting it to her. He felt fairly confident that she wouldn't be turned off by it, not now, and she might even find it amusing or sweet. There was even a chance she would suggest acting it out, treating it like yet another game for them to play. That was why he kept it locked away, though, why he couldn't sully its beauty by pretending, or talking about it as though it was mundane. Marrying Mary was still an unblemished dream in his head and heart, one that he would keep for himself for a while longer and see what the future held for them.

"You're so fucking huge! Oh, Matthew! This is so good!" she moaned, gasping with every plunge of his hips.

"Take it," he sneered, his eyes feasting on her naked body receiving him to the hilt. Every submissive cry from her lips sent his mind reeling, his rhythm losing its cadence as his own release approached.

He warned her.

She begged for it.

He unleashed.

Through their shared delirium, they both knew there were hours still to go until sunrise, and neither was feeling tired.


	15. Chapter 15

**Previously:**

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, September 3, 2017**

Sometimes when she was in a playful mood like she was tonight, he considered admitting it to her. He felt fairly confident that she wouldn't be turned off by it, not now, and she might even find it amusing or sweet. There was even a chance she would suggest acting it out, treating it like yet another game for them to play. That was why he kept it locked away, though, why he couldn't sully its beauty by pretending, or talking about it as though it was mundane. Marrying Mary was still an unblemished dream in his head and heart, one that he would keep for himself for a while longer and see what the future held for them.

"You're so fucking huge! Oh Matthew! This is so good!" she moaned, gasping with every plunge of his hips.

"Take it," he sneered, his eyes feasting on her naked body receiving him to the hilt. Every submissive cry from her lips sent his mind reeling, his rhythm losing its cadence as his own release approached.

He warned her.

She begged for it.

He unleashed.

Through their shared delirium, they both knew there were hours still to go until sunrise, and neither was feeling tired.

 **Chapter 15:**

 **Napoleon's Tomb, Les Invalides, Paris, France, September 4, 2017**

"It just seems strange, is all," Matthew said, staring up at the immense polished red quartz sarcophagus resting on the green granite base. The tomb dominated the entire vast chamber, centred beneath the towering dome above. "How tall was he?"

"5 feet, 6 inches," Alex replied.

"Truly? That's not particularly short, actually," Matthew noted.

"He was taller than average during his time. It's a myth that he was short," Alex explained.

"Ah," Matthew said, nodding his head. "I wonder how that came about. Who spread that rumour in the first place?"

"Who else? The British," Alex answered wryly.

Matthew huffed. "It's still a rather huge tomb for a man of his size."

"I think it would constitute a huge tomb for any man of any size," Alex remarked. "Besides, it wasn't made this big because of how tall he was. It contains his ashes."

"Oh, I see," Matthew replied. "Hmm."

They kept staring, standing off to the side while other tourists milled about and took photos and selfies with their phones.

"So how is everything? Really? And before you give me a dismissive 'fine', remember that Mary has filled me in, at least to the extent that she is willing to," Matthew reminded him.

Alex frowned and looked down at the polished floor. "We're talking."

"You're talking," Matthew repeated. "That's something. What are you talking about?"

"What causes her anxiety, her nervousness, her insecurity," Alex listed. "I'm trying to get her to see that what she feels isn't real, that it's all based on negative thinking, assuming that the worst will happen. I want to show her why she should have more faith."

"All right, and what about you?" Matthew asked.

"Me? I don't have any such issues," Alex answered.

"So you're spending these chat sessions picking her apart and telling her why she shouldn't feel what she's feeling? You think this will help, do you?" Matthew asked in amusement.

"I'm not picking her apart. I'm just trying to get her to open up more, trying to understand what she's going through," Alex protested.

"I appreciate that, but talking in a relationship is hardly ever tilted in one direction, and if it is, that's certainly not effective, in my experience," Matthew noted. "You may need to meet her halfway by making it less of an interrogation."

"I'm hardly interrogating her," Alex huffed.

"All right, you're not interrogating her," Matthew accepted. "Do you feel that things are better as a result of these talks?"

"A little bit," Alex grumbled.

"A little bit," Matthew repeated. "Well, that's something."

"Stop saying that," Alex complained.

"Anna's your wife, not your patient, or even your client," Matthew advised patiently. "She's not a problem to be solved. If you want to get back to the way you were, or move on to something better, it can't be about just fixing her and everything is fine. You're going to have to change, too."

"How? And change to what?" Alex asked.

"I'm not the one to be giving you marriage advice, obviously, but when Mary and I got back together, it wasn't just about me adapting to support her career, or her changing to let me in. We were different people than who we were before because of what we'd been through in our lives, so we had to work to treat our relationship differently. Anna's done something horrible. You've forgiven her. I admire you for that. But now, in the aftermath, it simply can't be about what's changed about her. You've got to adapt yourself," Matthew summarized.

"I'm fine with that," Alex claimed. "I just don't want her to think she's alone in facing whatever concerns she has, whatever worries come up. I want her to be able to come to me about these things, even if it's because of me that she feels that way. How do I change myself so that she'll talk to me more? I don't know how to do that."

"Maybe you should talk to your wife about it, specifically about what makes it hard for her to come to you with her problems, rather than focus on what's wrong with her," Matthew recommended.

Alex frowned and looked back at the tomb. "Do I really…"

"I never have a problem coming to you," Matthew finished for him. "Obviously, she did, and still might."

Alex sighed. "I never thought I'd want my wife to be more like you."

Matthew laughed. "What time are we meeting up for lunch?"

"12:30?" Alex guessed. "At the Japanese place by the river."

"I thought it was noon at the Italian place by Saint-Sulpice?" Matthew questioned.

Alex took out his phone. "I'll find out."

 **Musée Rodin, 7** **th** **Arrondissement, Paris, France, September 4, 2017**

"They've forgotten where we're supposed to meet for lunch," Anna remarked, reading her husband's text message.

"Oh for Heaven's sake," Mary scoffed, shaking her head. "Just tell them to come here when they're finished. They're literally right next door."

Anna smirked and sent a quick reply.

After viewing the extraordinary sculptures and art inside the lovely old home, they had come out to the museum gardens for a walk. The sun was shining and the space was a rare peaceful oasis in the middle of the busy city. Most tourists made a beeline straight to The Thinker, but Mary preferred _The Burghers of Calais_. Anna knew the routine well by now, and she liked coming here also. It was nice to take a break and go at a slower pace, the tall hedges and walls seeming to block out the world for a moment.

"The two of you seem to be getting on well," Mary noted as they went.

Anna nodded. "These last two weeks have been better. I'm almost afraid to fly to California. The spell might be broken once we leave France."

"Well, there are ways to keep him enchanted," Mary replied.

Anna sighed and shook her head. "He hasn't been interested."

"I find that hard to believe," Mary objected.

"All right, he is interested, and we've slowly been getting more affectionate, but we haven't progressed as much as I'd like," Anna admitted.

"You're eager, are you?" Mary asked.

"God, I'm desperate for it," Anna confessed, shaking her head.

"So tell him that," Mary suggested.

"I can't," Anna whinged. "It's not fair to him after what I did. I should wait for him to make the move, rather than expect anything. Who knows what goes through his mind when he thinks of me like that, if he even does."

Mary rolled her eyes. "I think the both of you are going to need to get past that if you're going to make this work. I'm not saying that it can or should be easily forgotten, but it can't affect your decisions going forward. He's your husband. He's also a man. If you want him, let him know, explicitly if necessary."

Anna snorted. "You make it sound so easy."

Mary shrugged. "It works for me. I've been getting plenty."

Anna frowned and shook her head.

"I don't even mean that you should jump on him, though that does work," Mary continued. "Just talk. Tell him what you want."

"Yeah, I know, I know," Anna agreed. "We are talking more. We have a bit of a time set aside for that. It's sort of what we agreed to start doing, rather than go to therapy, we try and talk more."

"Good. Then hopefully it'll all come around soon for you," Mary encouraged.

"I hope so. I want him so badly. I think about it at the strangest times of the day," Anna sighed, blushing slightly.

Mary smiled knowingly. "That's not a bad thing. You just need to work on turning thought to action."

Anna nodded. "Along those lines, not that I want to even think about it, but what are you going to do about the videos?"

Mary raised her hand and shook her head. "Never you mind that. I've been too busy. It's not as if there's any real urgency. Nothing will change in the grand scheme of things. We'll deal with it at the right time, and right now, what's important is that you work on your marriage. That's it."

"But," Anna began.

"Ah!" Mary stopped her.

Anna muttered to herself and nodded her head.

Mary smiled knowingly. They stopped at the statue of _Orpheus_ , each of them lost in their own thoughts.

 **Flat of Alexander Green, Chelsea, London, England, September 7, 2017**

"I'm not pleased," Green sneered, frowning as he looked out his window.

"Oh, honey, was your favourite blonde stand-in not available?" Edna replied over the phone with heavy sarcasm.

"Fuck off, yeah? If her husband is still in town, he'll be there at least until they leave for the Emmys, which means another two weeks before she gets back to Paris," he complained.

"And he'll most likely be here with her. Look, I told you what I heard from her and that's it. I couldn't care less what you think. Her husband's here with her now and he's staying until we wrap next month, it looks like. That's it," she retorted.

"I don't understand what brought about this sudden change," he grumbled. "She wouldn't have told him about anything that happened in London."

"Or didn't happen," she added.

"Exactly. Even less reason to say anything when there's nothing to say," he agreed.

"Anyway, I've got to go," she stated.

"Send me the call schedule for the end of the month," he ordered. "There's bound to be a night shoot in there somewhere."

She groaned.

"Edna…" he warned.

"All right, fine. Bye," she cut him off and hung up.

Green put the phone down, a scowl twisting his face. He glared at his bedroom. Just weeks ago Anna had been here. They were alone, the two of them. She had reached for the marijuana joint laced with ketamine just as he had dreamed. Another twenty minutes at most and he would have had her naked and handcuffed to his bed. Within an hour, he would have turned her into his addicted little slut. If only her fucking husband hadn't called.

Edna's report helped him understand why Anna's recent texts had been somewhat short. She hadn't contacted him since leaving London, and when he reached out to her she only maintained the conversation for a brief exchange before saying she had to get back to work or something. With her husband living with her in Paris, she was being watched, the freedom she previously enjoyed gone.

He reached for his drink and took a long sip. He would book a flight to Paris for the end of the month and remind her of where they had left off.

 **Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Le Marais, Paris, France, September 8, 2017**

They felt contrived, which was part of the reason why Anna didn't look forward to them. Her talks with her husband – not the casual and friendly talks about how the other's day went, or the funny and laughter-filled talks when they would watch something on television and critique the show's strange fashion sense or convoluted plot, and not even the serious talks they had about current events and what they thought of the state of the world – the introspective and thoughtful talks they had about all that had happened over the past year, and particularly more recently, were appointments to be dreaded.

It wasn't that she didn't want to talk. She hated the idea of going to a therapist, talking about her feelings with some stranger, doctor or not. Talking to Alex was much preferred, and he didn't judge or comment. He asked questions, made suggestions, and listened, all in an entirely respectful manner. Considering what she'd done, she wouldn't have been surprised by sarcastic remarks, biting comments and even the odd shout of anger. But he wasn't like that. He was genuinely trying to understand her better, and she appreciated that.

The problem was the process, really. They never had any time during the work day, so they usually had dinner and relaxed for a bit before talking on the sofa ahead of going to bed. They went for around an hour most times. She liked to have tea, something to distract her a bit, keep her hands busy. All of it would have been fine except for the sense she got that she had to suddenly turn on a switch and be more open and honest with him just because they were having their nightly talk. It just seemed weird to her to reserve a time for truth in her marriage, as if whatever she was doing up until that time was just for pretend, but now she had to be open for real. She worked herself into knots trying to make the sessions seem worthwhile, almost as if she had to come up with startling revelations so they could believe they were getting somewhere. She didn't have much to offer, really. They already had talked about why she had been so self-destructive after the miscarriage.

"I want to talk about that night at Green's flat in London," Alex said quietly.

She blinked and looked up from her tea cup. "You do?"

He swallowed and nodded. "I don't want to rehash it, but there's a few details that I wanted to make sure I had clear in my head."

She pursed her lips and nodded slowly, turning on the sofa towards him. "Like what?"

"Umm, like when you were alone after he left, and you went into his bedroom," he mentioned.

She shuddered and looked down at her tea. She knew she would never be able to forget her time in Green's flat, but she tried not to think about it, or him. There hadn't been anymore dreams, thankfully, and she spent more time wondering what Mary was going to do with the videos she'd discovered than anything else. However, the mere mention of when she was in his flat brought back all that she saw and felt when she was alone and waiting for him to come back.

"Yeah?" she muttered, raising her eyes and looking at him.

He looked away for a moment before continuing. "You said that you saw handcuffs and ribbons."

She swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. He was probably going to use them on me."

"And in your visions, you said that you were tied up, and you enjoyed that," he noted.

"Yeah," she confirmed, her voice quiet.

"Do you think that's because it would have made everything easier? If he bound you, you wouldn't be actively participating in it?" he questioned.

A shiver of fear and arousal shook her. She hesitated, wondering if she should spare his feelings, but ultimately decided she had to be honest. "That's an excuse, I think. I didn't expect that when I first went to his place, but when I saw them and imagined him putting them on me, I…it did…turn me on."

He blinked, but nodded.

"In my dreams of him, I was enjoying being tied up by him. I was enjoying being under his control," she whispered, watching closely to see his reaction.

He kept her gaze, though it seemed he was anxious to hear her answers. "Have you ever been tied up before?"

She shook her head quickly. "No. Never. I never really thought about it before."

He seemed a bit relieved by that. "Have you thought about it since?"

She shook her head again. "Not until now."

He nodded and looked down.

Her pulse jumped. "Why did you want to know?"

He looked up at her. "I'm just trying to understand. We've never talked about that sort of thing."

She nodded. "I didn't really know I was…into that sort of thing before."

He blinked. "Do you think you are? Into it, I mean?"

She bit her bottom lip. "Yeah. I think that I still find it intriguing. When I had all those feelings about him, it wasn't that I found him especially attractive. It was more what he represented. I've been with men sort of like him before, but he was different in that he was so unapologetic about how he used women, what he could do to them. I felt like he could help me forget who I was, get away from all my shit, and when I saw the handcuffs, it sort of drove the point home even more."

He cringed, but steadied himself. "I know that this is all hypothetical, but do you think that if you felt more confident about yourself, less stressed, that you would look at these things differently?"

She looked at him for a long moment before replying. "I think that sounds good, but it's not as simple as that. I think that I never would have been so curious about him if I had been in a better place, yes, but as for the types of things I imagined him doing to me, I don't think that just happened, and the way I feel about them hasn't gone away just because he has."

He blinked. "Okay."

Her chest clenched. She could only imagine what this was doing to him.

"Why do you think you never told me any of this?" he asked calmly. "I don't mean why didn't you, I mean why do you think you couldn't?"

She smiled wanly. "You're my husband. You always see the best in me, even when I can't see it myself. I couldn't come to you about any of this, because it was as if I was admitting to my own weakness, my own darkness. I already thought I was ruined in your eyes after I lost the baby, and I didn't think talking about my…new urges…would be something you were interested in."

He nodded. "Because you thought I would be disgusted by it?"

"Obviously," she agreed, laughing ruefully. "I couldn't give you children. The last thing you would have wanted to hear was that I was having these depraved fantasies. Besides, I was all messed up afterwards. I couldn't bear you touching me, and so I didn't think you'd want to hear about how I was feeling."

He frowned and looked away, his cheeks flushing.

"Babes?" she asked, looking at him curiously. "You would have despised me if I had told you, wouldn't you?"

He shook his head. "No. No, I would never, I could never despise you, not for that."

Her mouth fell open. "What are you saying?"

He met her eyes again. "I just don't know why you didn't think you could tell me these things. I've never hidden how much I want you, Anna. Why did you think I would be disgusted by this?"

"I just assumed you wouldn't go for any of it," she admitted.

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "I'm not nearly as innocent or pure as you seem to think I am."

"I know you're not innocent," she scoffed. "But it was just too embarrassing. I'm not exactly thrilled to be talking to you about it now, even."

"I don't want you to be embarrassed by your desires," he stated. "I'm your husband. You should be able to tell me anything."

"Even the things that spoil your image of me even more than I already have?" she snorted.

"Hey," he sympathized. "None of that spoils anything for me."

She shook her head in surprise. "Are you saying that you've had similar thoughts?"

His eyes found hers. He nodded.

"You've imagined having me like that?" she asked, her pulse racing. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I never knew how to bring it up. I thought you'd be shocked, and I didn't want you to think that I didn't respect you or only thought of you as some object for me to use. I didn't think that was how you wanted me to behave towards you, but I have imagined a great deal of things," he confessed.

"I…" she gasped before taking a deep breath and starting again. "I would never think you didn't respect me. I was attracted to the danger of him, but I was scared, too. If it was you, I would never be scared. I would only be…well…excited."

He grunted. "You haven't been excited about me for months."

Her face fell. She closed her eyes for a moment, her heart breaking for him before she looked at him once more. "It wasn't that you didn't excite me anymore. Thinking about having sex with you always made me remember the miscarriage, the pain, the loss, the failure. I never stopped wanting you. I just didn't know how to get past what happened."

He nodded and leaned forward, looking down at the floor.

"You still excite me," she said softly, afraid to reach for him. "But I don't know if what I did makes it difficult for you to think of me that way anymore."

"What? No!" he protested, turning to face her. "Love, that's not why I haven't, why we haven't done anything. I was afraid that I wouldn't measure up to your fantasies, that I couldn't perform like you wanted a lover to be now."

Her eyes bulged almost out of their sockets. "What? Oh, Alex. This is all my fault. I don't compare you to…to anyone! You're the best I've ever had! By far! I could never find…fault…in what you…do. You're amazing."

He smiled wryly. "Oh."

She reached out and took his hand. He looked at their joined fingers before meeting her eyes.

"I'm made of stout stuff, you know. You don't need to worry about me. You can tell me exactly what you want and I'll do it," she declared. "Not because I feel like I owe it to you, and not because I think I deserve to be punished, even though I probably do. I love you, babes. I want to please you."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it warmly.

"You do," he assured her. "I guess I'm just not used to the idea of giving you orders like that."

She laughed and shook her head. "Well I'll do what you want in the bedroom. I can't promise anything more than that."

He laughed and nodded his head.

She smiled in relief. "God, we're quite the pair aren't we? Each of us trying to protect the other from ourselves."

He smiled. "Seems like we have a lot more to talk about than we thought."

She bit her bottom lip and gave him a playful smile. "So, tell me about some of these ideas of yours."

 **CAA Pre-Emmys Party, Bouchon, Beverly Hills, California, USA, September 15, 2017**

Mary sipped her wine, glancing around the lavish restaurant yet again. Emmys week didn't truly get going until the famous Friday night agency parties. Those who were given prized invitations to all of them had to plan their rounds down to the minute to make sure they were seen at exactly the right moment and with exactly the right people. In years past it was a fun tour that she enjoyed immensely. This year, she only had her own agency's party to attend, but she wasn't bothered. Matthew was flying in from Spain, taking a 20-hour flight with two stops so he could join her. She and Anna had enjoyed the week's festivities, but it felt lacking without him at her side.

She managed to avoid Henry during most of the events, but not all. He was a nominee also, and she had an obligation to hang out with her fellow _Paladin_ cast who had come out. She smiled and greeted the numerous studio and network executives as though they were long lost friends, even though they were the very reason she was no longer working in North America. There were the usual inquiries about her current project, and when she mentioned Paul's name, she received the expected 'ooh's' and 'aah's'. It was all so patronising and ridiculous. To everyone here she was now playing in the minor leagues, and they're false support was aggravating.

Then again, raw honesty wasn't always preferable.

"These macarons are absolutely delightful," Henry raved, coming to her side. "Have you tried them, darling? The cream filling is delicious."

She didn't bother looking at him. She expected that there were cameras on them, which was why he had sought her out, but she continued staring straight ahead.

"Chef Keller's reputation is well earned," she noted. "However spending the summer in Paris has spoiled me when it comes to most pastries."

"You should have more of an open mind, Mary," he chuckled. "Allow yourself to sample more of what life has to offer."

She rolled her eyes, privately hoping the cameras were catching that. "I'm well aware of what's out there, thank you. I'm more than satisfied with what I've got."

"Speaking of settling, where's Matthew?" he asked smoothly. "I know he's not repped by the agency but I figured you would have found a way to sneak him in at least."

"He was working today in Spain, but don't worry, he's enroute, and even with jet lag, he'll look better than you come Sunday," she said crisply.

He smiled and shook his head. "I've missed you, darling."

"The feeling isn't mutual, I assure you," she retorted.

He chuckled. "Your name came up the other day when I had a meeting with Ridley Scott. I mentioned how I ran into you that one night when you were having dinner with that nice little Frenchman, Paul Kaput."

"It's Chaput, and you know it is," she corrected him. "I'm sure you pronounced it correctly when you were name-dropping him to Ridley."

"Maybe, but whatever his name doesn't change the fact that he's only known in Europe, and maybe in small pockets of New York where idiots watch French movies to pretend that they're cultured," he said, whispering in her ear. "Enjoy the weekend, darling. Who knows when you'll be invited back?"

She pursed her lips and still refused to look at him.

"Oh, and on Sunday? I'm going to thank you in my acceptance speech, as a bit of a token gesture. Remember to smile when the camera pans to you, if they even bother," he added.

She grit her teeth and didn't give him the satisfaction of an acknowledgment.

"You're done, Mary," he sneered. "But don't worry. My offer still stands."

He kissed her cheek and left.

She barely resisted turning around and throwing her wine glass at him.

"Massive apologies," Anna empathized, coming up to her and trading her wine glass for a vodka and tonic. "If I had known Henry was stalking you, I would have just had a server get us our drinks."

"Oh, don't worry, I can handle him," Mary replied, raising her glass to her assistant. "Besides, he's not wrong. Look around you. Everyone here knows I've been banished. You can see it in their fake smiles and the looks of pity."

"Well, buck up a bit. Matthew's flight lands in an hour," Anna advised.

"Good. I hope he was able to rest in Business Class. He'll need all the energy he's got with the mood I'm in," Mary declared, sipping her drink.

Anna laughed and shook her head, following Mary over to the dessert table.

 **69** **th** **Primetime Emmy Awards, Microsoft Theater, Los Angeles, California, USA, September 17, 2017**

"Well? Is it everything you'd hoped it would be?" Mary teased. "All the glamour and pageantry?"

Matthew frowned at her. The limo hadn't moved more than few metres in the past half hour. That wasn't really a problem since it was air conditioned. The actual problem was that since Mary's dress couldn't be wrinkled before she made her appearance on the red carpet, she was lying down, with her head resting on a cushion on his lap to make sure her halo braid was preserved. The stylists would give her a quick touch-up right before they got out of the car. For now, it was torture having her draped across him, her Chanel dress hugging her in the most wonderful places, and being unable to do anything about it with the stylists and Anna with them.

"I'm right where I want to be," he replied, giving her a wry smirk.

The entire day had been rather strange. He woke up ridiculously early, his body clock somewhere between Spain and America still. He went to the gym, had an early breakfast with Alex, went out for a walk, had a light lunch with Alex, and returned to his suite to a decidedly bizarre experience. Up until now he had to give Mary a wide berth whenever she was preparing for an awards show. This time, she wanted him with her, and what he witnessed was sheer lunacy.

He had seen her team of stylists and staff attend to her before. That wasn't strange. It wasn't even strange to see her walk around in just her robe for most of the afternoon. He became awkwardly aroused when he found out she was wearing just a thong beneath her dress for the entire evening, and lost his arousal completely when she had her breasts taped. The transformation of her hair, nails and makeup was quite extraordinary, but to see how much she had to go through and know that she would be judged on such an intense level was disconcerting. Before she put on her dress, he went to the other bedroom to change into his Armani tuxedo, taking a tenth of the time that she did. When they emerged, he was left speechless at how gorgeous she looked, and he surely grinned like an idiot when Anna took their photo to post later on. He felt badly for Mary that she had to devote so much time and effort to the way she looked, but the end result was sheer magic.

Now, he was desperate to get outside and walk with her. He barely paid attention as she and Anna bantered back and forth and sang along to the music.

"Matthew," she called, nudging him in the stomach.

"Yes, darling?" he replied, shaking himself from his daydreaming and looking down at her.

She smiled up at him and quirked her eyebrow.

He leaned down to hear her.

"I just want you to know how glad I am that you're here with me," she whispered. "I know it may seem as though I'm finally unveiling you when my career is at a low point and yours is on the rise, but honestly that's not my motivation at all. It's selfish of me, I know, but I just want the whole world to know that we're together, that I'm with you. I'm not looking for compliments or trying to create a buzz, or anything like that. It's just, well, I'm so proud to be yours, and I don't want to hide it any longer."

He grinned and nodded. "I know. I love you. You're going to do great tonight, I know it, and I'm so happy to be here with you."

She blew him a kiss, careful not to move too much to disturb her hair.

Eventually, the car reached the designated drop-off point and the mobs of fans, paparazzi, media and staff surrounded them on all sides. Mary sat up and kneeled on the floor while the stylists smoothed over her dress, double-checked her hair and touched up her face. Finally, they left with Anna, the wall of noise coming into the car while the door was open.

"Ready?" Mary asked, smiling at Matthew and squeezing his hand.

"For years," he answered cheekily.

The door opened and Matthew emerged first, stepping out into the bright sunshine and nodding. He stepped aside and allowed Mary to come out, the crowd nearest to them growing louder as she came into view. A staff member came over with Anna to direct them towards the red carpet, and Mary took Matthew's hand in hers. They both took a deep breath and stepped forward.

 **Home of Tony Foyle, Kensington, London, England, September 18, 2016**

 _'And look who has come over to join us! It's multi-time nominee, Mary Crawley. Hello!'_

Mabel scoffed as she watched Mary step up to the interview area and give a friendly hug to Giuliana Rancic of E!. She had to admit that Mary looked stunning. Her dress made her look sultry and a bit wicked, which was a departure from her previous looks. The hostess gushed over her, naturally, but this time it was justified.

 _'I'm really so very lucky. I've been filming a movie in Paris all summer, and having access to Chanel, and for them to make this dress for me was such an honour. I'm just so very grateful because they could have had anyone, obviously, and it's incredible that they chose me.'_

"Who'd you shag to arrange that?" Mabel grumbled, frowning at the screen.

"Now, now," Tony mumbled from his side of the bed. "This is basically Mary's last hurrah. Leave her be."

Mabel sighed. He was right. Mary might show up at the SAG Awards in a few months, but odds were that the farewell season of _Paladin_ wouldn't be nominated for any awards next year. She smiled at the thought.

 _'Now you've brought a good luck charm with you, I see,'_ Giuliana asked playfully.

Mary smiled and nodded. She turned her head and held out her hand and Matthew came into the shot.

"What the hell?" Mabel blurted out.

"That's Matthew," Tony added unnecessarily.

 _'You know Matthew, of course,'_ Mary said, smiling at him, their hands clasped together. _'He's currently filming a movie in Spain and he flew all day on Friday to make it here in time.'_

 _'Oh wow, Matthew!'_ Giuliana exclaimed. _'That is what I call devotion!'_

 _'I wasn't going to miss this,'_ Matthew replied, smiling at Mary. _'I'm so proud of her. I had to be here.'_

"Oh stop it, would you?" Mabel moaned, shaking her head.

 _'The two of you starred in Shattered this year. I loved that movie so much. There's some whispers that you might be up for some awards yourself, Matthew. What do you think of that?'_ Giuliana pushed.

Matthew glanced over at Mary before replying. _'I really don't know anything about that. We're both very proud of that film. If I had a vote, the entire cast would be up for all the awards. Tonight's Mary's night and that's the most important thing.'_

Mary smiled at his answer.

 _'We will be crossing our fingers for you! Thanks for stopping by, you look gorgeous!'_ Giuliana said.

Mary thanked her and waved to the camera before taking Matthew's hand and continuing on to the next interview.

"How did you spend months filming with her and not know they were together?" Mabel demanded, glaring at Tony.

"It must be recent. I never saw him on set in Toronto. Not once," Tony answered.

Mabel shook her head and frowned as she went back to watching the Emmys coverage. Her plans had worked quite effectively. Mary was filming a lower budget film in France now, all her offers from Hollywood having dried up. However, though it was early in the evening, Mary looked like the belle of the ball, and she showed up with a handsome prince as well. It was entirely unexpected, but having Mary receive any kind of attention made Mabel see red.

 **69** **th** **Primetime Emmy Awards, Microsoft Theater, Los Angeles, California, USA, September 17, 2017**

Anna frowned, her heartbeat speeding up a bit. So far, the show had gone as expected. _Paladin_ had lost for Writing in a Drama Series and Directing for a Drama Series. The show had already won Outstanding Costumes and Outstanding Make-up last week at the Creative Arts Emmys, but the major categories were handed out tonight, and the familiar sense of foreboding was gripping her. Henry was two categories away, with Mary to follow right after, and Outstanding Drama Series would end the evening. Anna had seen Henry be the only award winner from the show twice already in previous years. She would rather they lost everything than watch him win again.

"Relax," Alex said softly, leaning towards her. "The votes are cast. What's done is done."

She took a deep breath and nodded to him. She never liked showing emotion when she was working, but he picked up on her moods so well. Having him here with her was a comfort. They hadn't seen much of each other during the week. He was in meetings while she was at events with Mary during the day and he had passed on most of the parties so he could finalize a deal with Chinese investors. They saw each other essentially as little as they did in Paris.

"What will you do for me if Mary wins?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth.

She gave him a wry smirk. "Why should you get anything? It's not like you had anything to do with it."

He smiled. "If Mary wins, you're going to go crazy, so I want to know what I get out of it. What will you do for me?"

She smiled and tried to keep watching the ceremony up on the stage. They were tucked into a small corner many rows back and had been whispering back and forth like teenagers all night.

"Are you even going to be free tonight?" she teased. "No conference calls with Beijing or Shanghai to drag you away?"

"I'll clear my schedule if you make it worth it," he retorted.

She glanced over at him playfully before leaning in to whisper in his ear. "If Mary wins, we're going to party until dawn, which means I will be absolutely smashed. Get me back to the hotel and you can have me any way you like."

A jolt of arousal warmed her as she looked into his dark eyes. Since their talks in France, things had been far better between them, but with both of them being so busy, they still hadn't really come back to the same level of intimacy as before. She wasn't sure if she'd be in the mood tonight if Mary lost yet again, but he was right – if she somehow finally won, God, she'd be up for anything.

"Well, let's hope she wins," he remarked, giving her a knowing look.

She smiled and looked back to the stage, covering his hand with hers as he rested it on her knee.

* * *

 _'And the Emmy goes to…Henry Talbot.'_

Matthew clapped politely as Henry stood up just a few seats over from them and hugged everyone around him. The producers cheered him on heartily and he gave Mary a brief glance before going up on stage to accept his third Outstanding Lead Actor in a Drama Series Emmy. It was really surprising. Henry was a two-time winner and Season 4 of _Paladin_ had been gripping, which was why both he and Mary were nominated once again, along with the show. If Matthew didn't know what an absolute ass Henry was in real life, he would probably be impressed. But the fact was that he did, and so he most certainly wasn't.

"What an absolute buffoon," Mary commented.

Matthew blinked and looked over at her smiling face. "Pardon?"

"Henry," she explained, still smiling. "He's a buffoon. I can't believe the voters rewarded him again, but then again, nothing surprises me about this business, really."

"Why are you smiling?" he asked, looking at her curiously.

"Henry mentioned that he's going to thank me in his speech," she explained. "If the camera pans to me, I want the audience to see me smiling at you. I'll likely do the same thing when my category comes up next."

"What if the audience can read your lips?" he joked.

"Then I had best be careful not to call him a fucking twat on camera," she replied, smiling all the while.

Matthew chuckled and nodded. He played along, ignoring Henry's speech and saying one last silent prayer in his head with Mary's category due up next.

* * *

Mary believed there were two kinds of people who claimed to be just 'happy to be nominated'. First-time nominees were usually in awe of the Emmys experience and didn't have designs on winning awards, so their professing that being nominated was reward enough was genuine for the most part. Anyone else who tried to say that they were just 'happy to be nominated' were liars.

If you were nominated more than once, you desperately wanted to win. You enjoyed the experience the first go around. Each nomination after that, you wanted to win, no matter the odds. Saying you were 'happy to be nominated' after you'd already been through it before was just a defence mechanism, something you said to keep your hopes in check, even though deep down you were praying that this was your year.

If you were just 'happy to be nominated' then you could just stay home and not care if you won or not. You didn't starve yourself for months to fit into a super-tight dress and towering high heels if you were just 'happy to be nominated'. You didn't smile and wave and pretend to like people you barely even knew if you were just 'happy to be nominated'. It should have been that being nominated was considered an achievement in itself, but studio executives tended to view nominees as the first losers. Being nominated previously clearly hadn't done much for Mary as of late.

When her category came up and the nominees were read out, she applauded dutifully for all of her competitors. Her name was announced first in the order once again, and she smiled at Matthew, but didn't say anything. She was too nervous. A part of her knew she wasn't going to win. She was up against many of the same actresses that she'd been fighting against for the past four years, women who had already beaten her before, or who were part of shows that had better ratings and critical acclaim than _Paladin_. Out of a field of five nominees, she thought she was the third favourite at best.

The theatre fell silent and waited for the winner to be announced. Mary resigned herself to having put on a good show this week, showing up and forcing her rivals and detractors to acknowledge her. The fashion blogs would love her look, the gossip blogs would rave about her and Matthew's appearance, and maybe she'd be up for more awards in the coming months. She didn't have much hope that any of it would bring her back to Hollywood anytime soon, though. This week had proven to her that the studios and networks had long memories, and they apparently liked to hold grudges.

 _'And the winner of the Emmy award for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series is…Mary Crawley for Paladin.'_

* * *

"Oh my God!" Anna gasped, covering her mouth.

Alex just smiled.

They both stood up and applauded heartily, the only people in their section to do so, but that didn't matter.

"She bloody did it!" Anna shouted happily. She threw her arms up and cheered unashamedly.

Alex smiled at her enthusiasm and joined in, shouting as Mary's startled face filled the video screens.

* * *

"It's such a privilege to win again. You know, it's really sweet for me because _Paladin_ holds such a special place in my heart, so I'm very proud of this one, probably more proud than of my other ones, though they were great, too," Henry said, smiling and nodding.

Across the press room, there were large monitors showing the live broadcast from the theatre. Henry had been ushered back here after winning his award. He could have waited in the wings to see who won for Outstanding Lead Actress but he wanted to get to the press right away and grab their attention first.

He blinked, not paying attention to the next question as his eyes wandered over to the monitors. He saw a tall woman with dark brown hair, wearing a blood-red dress that bared one shoulder and most of her back. The woman kissed a taller man with blond hair before she turned and walked elegantly up on stage to accept her award.

He blinked in shock, willing himself not to show any emotion in front of the press.

 _Mary._

* * *

"Thank you so much," Mary began, holding her trophy tightly with both hands. "To the Television Academy first of all, to everyone who has supported _Paladin_ for so many years and made it possible for me to be part of such an incredible show with a wonderful cast and crew, thank you. To all the fans around the world, it was such an honour to bring Jade to life for all of you, and I will always be so grateful. I want to thank Rosamund and CAA for all of your work on my behalf. Anna, my best friend, thank you. This award means so much because it honours my family – especially my mum, Cora Levinson, and my grandmother, the legend, Violet Crawley. This is for them. Thank you so much."

 **Townhouse of Dr. Sybil Crawley and Tom Branson, Brooklyn, New York, USA, September 17, 2017**

"Fuck! Oh, come on, darling!" Sybil groaned, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at the television.

"What?" Tom asked, looking up at her in amusement.

She turned to look at him and sighed. "She didn't thank Matthew."

"Oh, so what? She didn't thank you or Edith either," he noted, closing his eyes and rolling over.

"She pretty much did. She mentioned our family," she remarked, frowning at his bare back.

"Fine, so she didn't thank him. He won't care about that. He'll be elated that she won, just like the rest of us," he mumbled into the pillow.

"He's not like the rest of us, and she shouldn't lump him in with the rest of us, either," she complained.

"Hon, I'm pretty sure, if I know anything about Matthew and your sister, that she's going to be thanking him many times tonight. Don't worry about it," he stated.

"Don't be vulgar," she scoffed, slapping his back.

"Right, cause you weren't thinking the same thing," he shot back.

She was about to retort when her phone rang.

"That's Edith," she muttered, grabbing the phone.

"Well, this will be a quick chat," Tom deadpanned.

"Hello, darling," Sybil answered her sister's call. "I know! I can't fucking believe it! Doesn't she practice these things beforehand? I know it's poor form to bring notes up, but for God's sake, he was sitting right there! Yeah. Yeah. Well, they looked absolutely gorgeous on the red carpet. No, well you know him. He'll play it off, but I imagine he's pretty annoyed. I would be…"

 **Governors Ball, L.A. Convention Center, Los Angeles, California, USA, September 18, 2017**

"Imagine meeting you here," Alex noted, putting his drink down on the high-top table and standing next to Matthew.

"Wouldn't miss our annual date, honey," Matthew joked, smiling wryly at him and taking a sip of his Rye and Coke.

"Mary's circulating, is she?" Alex asked.

"No, she's over there," Matthew nodded towards a throng gathered around Mary. "When you're a winner, they come to you, you know."

The last few hours had been a blur. Mary was whisked backstage after she won, and Matthew didn't see her until well after the ceremony ended. _Paladin_ didn't win for Outstanding Drama, but no one seemed to care. Catherine and the other cast members who had come out were ecstatic that Mary had won, and they all trundled backstage to find her. She had a press conference to do, photographs to take, and interviews to give, all while being shuttled back and forth throughout the building. He waited. This was her moment and she wanted her to enjoy it.

They finally found each other on the way to the car. She took his hand and beamed, her face lit up with joy. When they were finally in the car, she pounced on him, kissing him thoroughly, laughing and crying at the same time. He held her tight, telling her she had won over and over, then helped her dab her face. She texted Sybil and Edith and called back to Downton Abbey before they reached the first party of the evening.

They posted for photos on the red carpet, and shared a quiet moment together while waiting for her Emmy to be engraved. Trophy in hand, she was swallowed up by a wave of well-wishers. He went and got her first drink, and her second, and a small plate of hors d'oeuvres. There were numerous toasts and congratulatory hugs and kisses from friends and complete strangers alike. After a while, with more and more people crowding in, he left to give her space, and to get some air.

"If it's any consolation, the photos of the two of you from tonight are blowing up online," Alex told him, taking out his phone and showing him several shots on Instagram that were up over 200,000 likes.

"It's not, but thanks," Matthew replied, smiling confidently. "I'm good. It's her night. I want her to soak it all in. This is closer than I've ever been permitted before, so that's progress."

Alex smiled and clinked glasses with his friend, the two of them taking a healthy drink while Mary continued to bask in her victory, Anna standing close by and grinning widely.

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, September 18, 2017**

"Edna!" Paul called, frowning at his television.

Edna came into the office, tablet at the ready. It was ridiculously early to be in already, but she didn't mind. Paul had been working since midnight, so she was lucky he let her at least get a few hours of sleep before she had to arrive.

"Yes? How may I help?" she replied in French.

"Who is that?" Paul asked, pointing at the screen.

Edna turned and looked over at a news broadcast playing on the television.

 _'A big winner tonight was Lady Mary Crawley, who won Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series for Paladin on her third try. Not only did she look absolutely gorgeous in this sexy Chanel dress…love it!...but she also brought along the best accessory of the evening. We're all crying together ladies! That's Matthew Crawley, the Armani model and actor, who showed up as Mary's date. The two are childhood friends, not related, and of course they steamed up the screen together in Shattered earlier this year. He wore Armani tonight, naturally, and aren't they just amazing looking together? Now, I was one of the biggest Marbot fans, I'm not gonna lie. But these two…wow. Sources tell me they are definitely an item and they are celebrating her win together at the after parties as we speak! There's a few hashtags for them on social media already. Call them Matthery, call them Martthew, whatever, but call them the new hot couple on the scene because they are on fire!'_

Edna smirked. "That's Matthew Crawley. He's Mary's boyfriend, it seems."

"Boyfriend?" Paul grunted, frowning and shaking his head. "She did not tell me she had a boyfriend."

Edna glanced over at the director curiously. "Well, it seems to be rather recent. This is their first public appearance together."

"Have you see him in Paris?" Paul asked.

"No," Edna replied, shaking her head. "They were seen together in London at her sister's wedding in August, but no one thought that they were a couple because he's an old friend of the family."

Paul continued to stare at the television.

"I can find out more about him, if you like," she suggested.

"Non," he replied, waving his hand. "Bring me the schedule for this week."

"Yes, sir," she answered, turning and leaving the office.

He picked up the remote control from his desk and rewound the playback to the beginning of the news broadcast. Pressing Play, he watched as Mary and Matthew walked the red carpet together. He scowled.

 **Rodeo View Suite, Beverly Wishire Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, September 17, 2017**

Sunrise was less than two hours away when Matthew finally dragged Mary up to their suite. She stumbled every few steps and giggled the entire time, clinging to him as she walked. Her kisses to his cheek and her naughty hands distracted him while he tried to fish out his keycard and get the door open, but eventually he did and she sauntered in ahead of him, her Emmy in one hand, her clutch in the other.

She wanted another drink the moment they got inside and he gently stopped her, directing her to the bedroom instead. He was rather buzzed himself, but he was at least lucid enough to remember that she couldn't damage her dress, which had to be sent back to Chanel promptly in the morning. It took a great deal of restraint for him to get it off of her without tearing it. Every inch of her pale skin that he uncovered made him hungry to see more right away. He managed to get her out of it and set it aside on a chair. She stood there in just her black thong and scanned her phone, a stupid smile on her face.

"We look so hot, don't we?" she asked in a sing-song voice, glancing at the photos of them that Anna had posted to Instagram and her other social media accounts.

"Very," he agreed, taking off his jacket and undoing his tie and cuff links. He kept his distance, staring at her reflection in the large mirror above the dresser, the light of the phone screen illuminating her body in a silver glow. She looked like a nymph, a fairy, some sort of ethereal beauty, and she was all his. The very thought strained his arousal.

"You know, it's much heavier than it looks," she mused, waving her Emmy in the air. "Oh! My make-up!"

He smirked in amusement as she took off for the bathroom. Taking off his vest and shirt, he followed after her, smiling at the sight of her practically naked and leaning over the sink, washing her face. Her hair was still mostly intact, having survived all the dancing she'd done at the three different after-parties that they'd hit. Anna had barely made it through the third one before Alex took her away. Mary wanted to keep going until dawn, but Matthew convinced her to turn in.

"Ah, much better," she declared, turning off the sink and patting her face dry with a towel. She dropped the towel to the floor, picked up her Emmy and went back out into the bedroom.

He chuckled and went after her.

She was standing in front of the dresser again, looking at her phone. He noticed slyly that she had removed the tape from her breasts, and her skin was still a bit pink from all the alcohol she'd had. He noticed she'd lost a bit of weight over the summer, which seemed rather unnecessary, but he didn't bother dwelling on it. His mind turned to far more pressing matters.

"Did I ever tell you about a little fantasy I've had for a while now?" he asked, coming up behind her and taking her phone from her hand.

"Mmm, another one?" she asked, humming pleasantly.

"Mmm hmm. It's about getting to fuck an Emmy winner," he whispered in her ear, placing her phone on the dresser and pressing against her from behind.

She laughed while his hands went down to her hips. "Really? Lucky for me that Tatiana Maslany was already taken last year, then."

"Oh, I never wanted to fuck just any Emmy winner," he scoffed, kissing her bare shoulder. "Besides, I had my eye on Louie Anderson last year anyway, but he wasn't interested."

She laughed, then moaned quietly as his fingers slid up her sides, then back down to ghost along the waistband of her thong.

"It's a rather elaborate fantasy, actually. Would you like to hear it?" he whispered, kissing the spot below her ear.

"Please," she whispered, her voice shaking just a little.

"I never imagined that I could get into the ceremony, so my only shot was to somehow get into one of the after parties," he started.

"And I would be there, holding my trophy," she noted, her eyes falling to the golden statuette in her hand.

"I would see you, see that gleaming lady in your hand. I already would have watched you win, heard the excitement in your voice, imagined what it would sound like to hear you moan for me when I touched you, when I kissed you," he drawled, his hands moving up to fondle her breasts.

She moaned louder than normal, her eyes closing.

"Look at us, Mary," he ordered.

She opened her eyes and found their reflection in the mirror. She gasped and leaned back against him as he continued to play with her.

"Talk to me," he continued, kissing her neck.

"I'd be high from winning, drunk from all the toasts and congratulatory drinks, never wanting the night to end," she narrated, tilting her head to let him have more of her throat.

"And I'd approach you when I saw an opening, when I could get you alone," he rasped.

"I'd see you coming, see a sexy, well-dressed man, and think 'I deserve that', another prize to celebrate my victory," she hissed. "You'd come up to me, and I'd let you, and you would say…"

"Congratulations on the well-deserved win," he said, his eyes finding hers in the mirror.

"Thank you," she breathed, swallowing as he pinched her intently.

"This party's getting a bit boring, care to go to another?" he asked.

"That depends. Is it exclusive?" she replied.

"Very," he answered smoothly. "For winners only."

She grinned. "And I'd say yes, knowing exactly what you had planned for me."

"You want it," he declared.

She nodded and gasped as his fingers kept firing her desire. "I would be in the mood to be reckless, to be bad. And you'd bring me back to your suite."

"No, we wouldn't be able to wait that long," he pointed out.

"Mmm, in the car then?" she suggested, her pulse jumping. "You'd make me go down on you in the backseat?"

"No. We'd find a bathroom. They're rather fancy at those party venues anyway," he replied.

"A bathroom," she repeated, her hands moving behind her and pulling at his belt. He helped her get him out of his trousers and push her forward towards the dresser. "I can't believe I'm doing this. Fucking a total stranger. I don't even know your name."

"It's Matthew," he growled, pulling her thong down her legs.

"Matthew," she sang huskily. "Have you ever fucked an Emmy winner before, Matthew?"

"Plenty," he answered, drawing another moan from her. He reached out and took her trophy from her hand and put it down in front of them. "You wouldn't be my first."

"Oh God!" she gasped, bracing herself as he bent her over. He dropped his shorts and kicked her legs apart, running his hand up her back and taking hold of her hair.

"I'd bend you over in front of the mirror so we could see ourselves, so I could see your face when I fucked you," he declared.

"I'd see you behind me, and my trophy, and the whole scene would be so fucking hot," she babbled, groaning as he teased her.

"And you would tell me…" he encouraged her, taking hold of her hips.

"I like it rough," she confessed, licking his lips. "Fuck me hard and make me scream for you, Matthew."

They both groaned when he thrust into her, burying himself fully in a few quick strokes. He set a fast pace and she slammed her hand on the dresser over and over, crying out with every plunge. She cursed and moaned and chanted his name, her carefully styled hair coming undone with every pull of his fist.

"Yes! Yes! Fuck me, Matthew! Yes!" she shouted. She was being far too loud, but they didn't care. Her vision filled with him, and them, and her shining Emmy, and she wanted the whole world to know exactly how she was celebrating her triumph.

He smiled with each harsh breath, his eyes gorging on her naked body, the sight of her wild eyes in the mirror, her face lit in pleasure. He never tired of seeing her let go of all her inhibitions with him, drop the placid façade of Lady Mary Crawley and allow herself to be wanton, and vocal, and demanding. He loved how she begged, snarled at him, told him the filthiest things. Every passing minute made them more and more delirious with lust. He could listen to her like this forever.

"Are you close?" he panted, speeding up his thrusts and pulling back on her hair.

"Yes!" she whimpered. "Harder! Please!"

He grinned and drove into her, watching her take all of him again and again. He felt her squeeze around him and he groaned in anticipation.

She moaned and released around him, lifting her head and crying out her bliss. Feeling her shake almost undid him in turn. He let go of her hair and caressed her back, slowing his movements and waiting for her to ride it out. Breathing heavily, she reached down and took his hands in hers, standing up and wrapping his arms around her.

"Did you like that?" she drawled, turning her head and giving him a wet kiss.

"I love watching you," he said devilishly.

She grinded her hips against him and licked his face. "I love it when you get me there."

He groaned when she stepped away from him and let go of his hands. His eyes widened when she turned around to face him, showing him a wicked smile.

"Once you had your Emmy winner, what would you do? Add her to your tally and leave her in the middle of the night?" she asked, arching her eyebrow at him.

He took a deep breath. "It depends on whether she would kick me out or not."

"Hmm, I think I could be convinced to keep you around for a while longer," she promised, closing the distance between them and kissing his chest. "If you're up to the task."

He held his breath when she lowered herself to her knees.

"Are you up for it?" she teased looking up at him.

He nodded quickly, swallowing to find his voice. "Definitely."

She smiled again before opening her mouth and taking him in.

"Fuck!" he rasped. His body tensed, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

Her hands came around and grasped his ass, pulling him towards her. The taste of him enflamed her, her stomach fluttering as she imagined how she must look to him. He had given her exactly what she wanted. Now it was her turn, and she embraced the challenge with enthusiasm.

She couldn't have him thinking he had the upper hand.

Her mouth and tongue were already driving him mad, and when she moaned and hummed around him, the added massaging of her throat was far too much. He took hold of her head and thrust forward.

"Mary!" he warned her frantically.

Her hand ghosted between his legs and set him off.

"Mary!" he yelled, a long groan falling from his lips as she drained him.

"Mmm, well, it seems I've won again," she taunted him, sitting back and licking her lips.

He looked at her curiously. "How's that?"

She smirked at him and stood back up. "Isn't it obvious? You're finished."

He blinked, then grabbed her and scooped her up off the floor.

"Matthew!" she yelped in surprise.

"You think me useless, do you?" he threatened, tossing her on the bed. "Let's just see, shall we?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "What are you…oh!"

He put her on her back and took hold of her ankles, spreading her legs and pushing them back, opening her up.

She realized what was about to happen a second before he lowered his head.

"Oh Matthew!" she moaned, arching her back and shutting her eyes. Her hands clawed at the duvet for purchase, grabbing handfuls of the blanket as he sent her soaring towards the inevitable.

"God! I love you, Matthew! I love you so much!" she wailed, bucking her hips and crying out when he pushed her into rapture once again.

* * *

"Darling? Are you awake?" she asked, blinking her eyes and adjusting to the darkness of the bedroom, the drapes keeping the sunlight at bay for now.

"Mmm, I can be," he replied, his voice heavy and deep.

"Not for that! You've worn me out," she laughed, slapping his chest.

"I thought you won," he joked, his eyes still closed.

"I most certainly did," she declared, kissing his chest.

"Mmm, go to sleep, darling. The sun's about to come up," he mumbled.

"It's already up," she told him. "Matthew, about last night. There was a reason that I didn't thank you in my speech."

He blinked, his eyes opening halfway. "It's all right. I understand."

"No," she shook her head. "It wasn't because I forgot about you, or wanted to keep people guessing about us, or anything like that. It was because I wanted to thank you in private."

"You most certainly did," he agreed, smirking at her.

"Stop!" she chided him, smiling herself. "I didn't want a timer to limit me in what I wanted to say to you, and I didn't think anyone else had a right to hear what I had to say."

He looked at her curiously and nodded for her to continue.

"There's not many people who know everything that I've been through over the past five years, let alone beyond that. Winning an Emmy wasn't something I ever specifically set out to do, but I always thought that if I did good work, the accolades would come," she explained.

He nodded.

"But as time went on, I learned the hard way that doing good work just isn't enough. Not only are there so many incredible actresses out there, but so much about the opportunities you get in this business, and whether you're noticed, depend on circumstances entirely beyond your control," she continued.

"Right," he said softly.

"I've had a lot of ups and downs in my career thus far," she admitted. "Many of the down moments have been self-inflicted. I haven't deserved being exiled from Hollywood, but in some ways, I put myself in a position to be taken advantage of, and now I must bear the consequences."

"Oh, Mary," he whispered, holding her close.

"Through all of it, you've been there for me," she stated. "There were times where I know I've used you – for your body, for your patience, for your support – I've asked so much of you and you've barely ever complained about any of it. I didn't thank you up on stage because my thanks seems so small compared to what you've done for me. Your love is one of the few things that I've been able to count on without question, and even though I don't say it, having you on my side has been more important than you could ever possibly know."

He smiled and kissed her forehead.

She reached up and caressed his face. "I love you so much. There's no one else in the entire world that I would rather share this with. I really don't know what's going to happen with my career, but knowing I have you, it doesn't seem so hopeless."

He kissed her deeply. "I love you too, and I'm so proud of you. You did this, Mary. All of it. This is your win."

"Fine, but I'm still grateful, and when we wake up, I'm going to thank you again," she promised, kissing him quickly and settling down against his chest.

He chuckled and closed his eyes. "Please do."


	16. Chapter 16

**Previously:**

 **Rodeo View Suite, Beverly Wishire Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, September 17, 2017**

"Through all of it, you've been there for me," she stated. "There were times where I know I've used you – for your body, for your patience, for your support – I've asked so much of you and you've barely ever complained about any of it. I didn't thank you up on stage because my thanks seems so small compared to what you've done for me. Your love is one of the few things that I've been able to count on without question, and even though I don't say it, having you on my side has been more important than you could ever possibly know."

He smiled and kissed her forehead.

She reached up and caressed his face. "I love you so much. There's no one else in the entire world that I would rather share this with."

He kissed her deeply. "I love you too, and I'm so proud of you. You did this, Mary. All of it. This is your win."

"Fine, but I'm still grateful, and when we wake up, I'm going to thank you again," she promised, kissing him quickly and settling down against his chest.

He chuckled and closed his eyes. "Please do."

 **Chapter 16:**

 **Wilshire Suite, Beverly Wilshire Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, September 18, 2017**

Anna finished her bottle of water and wiped her mouth. The sun peeked around the expensive drapes, trying to get in, but failing. The new day arrived and she smiled, the pleasant memories of last evening still fresh.

She wobbled a bit when she turned around, giggled when she raised her arms to steady herself. Yep, definitely still drunk. Not as much as she was a few hours ago, but tipsy enough. That was fine, though. There was nothing on the schedule today. Mary blocked it off to spend time with Matthew, and she was glad for her best friend's foresight. Whether Mary intentionally freed her up to have the day with her husband, or this was all just a happy coincidence, she was grateful anyway.

Her legs ached a bit with each slow step towards the hallway. Her throat was still sore, her voice still scratchy. She screamed herself hoarse last night. Well, more like he made her scream herself hoarse. There were some blurry parts, the alcohol not helping her remember as clearly as she'd like, but what she did remember was more than vivid enough on its own.

His hands, firm and strong, patiently helping her out of her dress before viciously tearing her underwear off. His fingers, rough and demanding, bringing her off shockingly fast as he made her stand naked in front of the mirror and watch. Most memorable of all, his voice, smooth, deep, hypnotizing. It didn't sound all that different, but it somehow felt so very changed. The way he ordered her to do what he wanted. The way he asked her such scandalous questions and commanded her to answer. The way he growled out his pleasure. It was all so primal, so unlike what she was used to. She absolutely loved all of it.

A smile filled her face as she headed down the hallway towards the bedroom, the carpet soft beneath her bare feet. She never had any complaints about Alex's performance. His meticulous nature ensured that he always saw to her needs, always made sure she was satisfied. He was considerate and caring, and taught her things she had never known before, all of her previous boyfriends never displaying any real creativity or paying any real thought to her needs.

Last night was different, though. He was the one in control, but it was almost as if he wasn't, as if there was something greater than both of them at work. They had both been desperate, and frantic, and impatient. She expected him to tie her up, to dominate, to make her serve him, but he didn't do any of those things. He was rough and aggressive, but she was just as active as he was, taking her cues from when he nudged her into a different position, or tugged on her hair, or told her to go faster. He built her up to the point of madness with his hands, his mouth, his words. She thought feeling helpless and vulnerable would turn her on, and it did, but he helped her discover an entirely different side of herself. She always thought that behaving badly would feel shameful and embarrassing. The passion in their marriage had stalled in the past few months since the miscarriage, but they had never been boring before. Still, this was so much better. She felt so uninhibited and free, as though she could say anything and do anything and he would not only keep her safe, but encourage her.

She felt that he had lost himself in their newfound debauchery as much as she had, which delighted her. One night of amazing sex wasn't going to solve their problems, but to know that he still wanted her, and was willing to explore this new dimension to their relationship had her feeling more confident than she had in months. Not once did she feel nervous or anxious. Not once did she dread his touch. Not once did her mind wander back to the tragedy of months ago. Being drunk helped, but it wasn't just that. They were learning each other anew in a way, and she was too busy craving more of him to feel scared.

A warmth spread through her when she arrived back in their bedroom. He was lying on his side, still facing towards her pillow, the duvet barely covering him. After washing up, they fell asleep easily, their naked bodies spooned together. Thirst had woken her up early, leading her to hit the mini-bar in the living room for water. She removed her robe and came back to bed, sliding in next to him and smiling at his peaceful face.

"Mmm, you okay, love?" he asked sleepily, his arm reaching out and pulling her to him.

"Yeah. Just needed a drink," she replied, kissing him softly. She hooked her leg over his, rubbing herself against him languidly.

"Mmm," he mumbled.

"Babes?" she asked, kissing his neck.

"Yeah?" he grunted.

"Last night was so fucking good," she drawled.

He chuckled. "Mmm hmm."

"Can we try some more of your ideas when we get back to Paris?" she asked.

"For sure," he smiled, kissing her forehead. "I've got lots of ideas."

She giggled happily. "Care to share?"

He groaned slightly when her hand ran along his arm. "Aren't you tired?"

"No," she whispered, licking his skin.

He chuckled. "Well, if it was okay with you, I did want to try tying you up."

A jolt of desire spread through her. "Yeah? Tell me."

"I don't think I want to use handcuffs," he noted softly, his eyes still closed. "I was thinking silk stockings maybe, and a blindfold."

She shivered. "A blindfold?"

"Yeah, to enhance your other senses," he explained.

"God, that sounds hot," she admitted, kissing him firmly.

"You like that?" he asked, his voice rich and smooth.

"Yeah," she answered. "It feels like you do, too."

"Well it is my idea," he pointed out.

She laughed and pushed him on to his back.

He opened his eyes and looked up at her, barely lucid.

"See what you think of this idea," she said sultrily.

She threw the duvet aside and moved over, settling between his legs and taking hold of him.

He closed his eyes and sighed as she took him into her mouth. "Fuck, Anna," he growled. "Again?"

She lifted her head just enough to answer him. "Again. I want to beat my record."

 **Kitchen, Beverly Wilshire Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, September 18, 2017**

"Service, please. Going up to the Rodeo View Suite 808 – 1 Seasonal Fruit Plate, 1 California Berry Parfait, 1 Mimosa, 1 Bloody Mary, 1 Bakery Bundle, 1 Berry Smoothie, 1 Green Smoothie, water and tea. Service!"

Two waiters glanced at each other, then raced to the counter to collect the trays of food.

"I've got it!" the first claimed.

"No, it's good. I've got it," the second objected.

"Both of you go, and don't do anything stupid!" the chef threatened.

The waiters grinned and loaded up the cart with the covered dishes and drinks, adding linens, cutlery and a vase of flowers before wheeling the food towards the service elevator.

"What's up with them?" a waitress asked.

"Rodeo View Suite 808 is Lady Mary Crawley's suite," another informed her.

"Oh God. What do they think? She'll let them take a selfie or something?"

"They're probably praying they'll catch her in her robe or something like that."

"Geez. Boys…"

"Yep."

 **Rodeo View Suite, Beverly Wishire Hotel, Beverly Hills, California, USA, September 18, 2017**

Matthew finished drying his hair and came out of the bathroom. He smiled at Mary, still sitting in bed, propped up against the pillows, headset in one ear, her eyes trained on the television.

 _'New it couple Mary Crawley and Matthew Crawley danced the night away after her huge win last night. Here they are being so cute together waiting for her Emmy to be engraved at the Governor's Ball. They moved on to the HBO party from there and finished up late in the evening at the AMC party. Mary elected not to change outfits, wearing the same absolutely stunning Chanel Haute Couture dress that she wore to the ceremony. The fifth season of Paladin begins in November, and it is rumoured that it will be the show's last following the departure of Henry Talbot, who won his third Emmy last night for Outstanding Lead Actor.'_

"They had to mention him," Mary muttered, shaking her head.

He came back to bed, sitting next to her and putting his arm out.

She tossed her headset aside, gave him a quick kiss and snuggled against his chest.

"What did your aunt say?" he asked lightly, playing with her fingers.

"What I expected – nothing's changed," she replied. "My Emmy was for a television role on a show that's effectively been cancelled. It doesn't carry very much weight with the movie studios. They're all still waiting to see how my next film does before deciding if I deserve to be allowed back into Hollywood. No one was begging Aunt Rosamund last night for a meeting with me before I go back to Paris, put it that way."

"That's ridiculous," he scoffed.

"It is, but I'm not surprised," she sighed. "Not every television actor transitions to films smoothly, and most Jade fans are really fans of the show and the books, rather than of me personally. There're Instagram models who have millions more followers than I do. My brand just doesn't have the same sway as others."

"Why should that even matter?" he protested. "Just because someone is a popular model doesn't mean that person can act."

"Speaking from experience, are you?" she teased.

"Ha ha," he replied sarcastically.

"It's always about numbers, darling," she continued. "I personally think that Season One was some of my best work, but we only survived to Season Two because our ratings picked up halfway through. It's nice to have a following, but if you can't make an argument to the studios that your name can drive ticket sales, they aren't going to be eager to invest in you. The projects that I was up for all had bigger budgets than _Shattered_. Those dollars aren't spent on a whim, especially these days."

"The studios produce multi-million dollar disasters all the time," he disagreed. "I can't believe that winning an Emmy doesn't move the needle in your favour, even if it's just a bit."

"Maybe just a bit," she allowed. "It wouldn't hurt if I ended up being nominated for more awards in a few months' time. Anyway, the fact remains that how _The Muse_ is received will go a long way to whether I need to toil in obscurity for a while longer or not."

"You don't even have North American distribution yet though, you said," he stated.

"We don't," she confirmed. "I just have to hope it makes some noise in Europe and gets enough attention to come over here for festival season, and we'll see."

He grunted and shook his head in annoyance.

"Come on, darling. I don't want to spend our last full day here wringing our hands over my prospects," she declared, caressing his face. "I cleared my entire day just for you."

"Did you?" he remarked, his face lighting up.

"I did," she smiled, nodding her head. "We can do absolutely anything you like."

"Now that is a dangerous offer, indeed," he smirked, leaning towards her.

They were interrupted by a firm knock at the door.

"You can start by going to answer the door. That's our breakfast," she instructed, laughing at him.

He frowned petulantly before getting out of bed and stomping off.

* * *

"Let me do the talking," the first waiter hissed, standing before the door to the suite.

"Why?" the second mumbled, glancing over at him.

"Because you're no good at it. You look like you're trying too hard."

"I do not!"

"Who got the selfie with J. Lo?"

"We never even found out if that was really her!"

"Oh, it was her!"

"She wasn't checked in under her name!"

"No celebrity checks into a hotel under her actual name, come on!"

They stopped arguing as they heard the latch open and the lock turn on the other side of the door. Their wide smiles faded slightly when the door swung open and a tall man with blond hair and blue eyes greeted them.

"Ah, perfect timing," Matthew said politely. "You can just leave the cart in here."

"Yes, sir," the first waiter recovered, stepping into the room and leaving the second to push the cart through. They removed the metal covers from each of the dishes and presented the items to Matthew so he could confirm the order was correct.

Matthew took the folio and signed it. He smiled as he noticed the two waiters glancing around the room, trying to seem inconspicuous and not succeeding in the slightest.

"Thank you, Mr. Crawley," the first waiter said, nodding and taking the folio back. "Good day, sir. Enjoy."

The two waiters took their leave. Matthew closed and locked the door behind them. He wheeled the cart down the hall towards the bedroom.

* * *

Mary glanced over to the window and the sun-drenched city beyond. She took a deep breath, letting her mind wander. This morning was like any other. This morning was unlike any other. She was an Emmy winner. She shouldn't feel any different, but she did. A part of her felt vindicated and redeemed, even when Aunt Rosamund delivered a dose of reality that nothing had changed where the American studios were concerned. There were dozens of congratulatory text messages from family, friends, old colleagues and acquaintances. She had spoken to Mum earlier, who assured her that Granny had watched her victory and acceptance speech as soon as she woke up this morning. After sharing a warm moment with her mother, she had a quick chat with Sybil and Edith. Years ago, when she was first nominated, she imagined being aloof and cool when talking with her sisters about her win, acting as though it was the most natural thing. After so many disappointments, she couldn't hide her joy and the three of them had squealed and cackled happily over the video call, Mary regaling them with details of the evening and all the after parties. Their conversation had finally driven Matthew to get up and go shower, just so he could escape and save his hearing.

She didn't feel any sympathy for him. It was mostly his fault that they were having breakfast at close to 11 in the morning. She expected they would have a bit of a lie in after going to sleep so late, but he had woken up aroused and impatient, and any wish she had of getting out of bed before 9 was gone the second his head dipped between her legs again. He at least had the good sense to do all the work, she thought wryly. If not for Mum calling her, they would probably be having sex in the shower right now.

A smile graced her lips as she took in the bright blue sky. Aunt Rosamund suggested that she and Matthew go out for lunch so they could be photographed together, a bit of a 'morning after' shot to feed the media. It wasn't a bad idea, but she wasn't interested. They were both flying back to Europe tomorrow, and she wanted to spend today with him, and only him, rather than orchestrating photo ops. There would be greater coverage of them now, some of it planned, most of it not, but she thought she was ready. Dealing with the paparazzi was a small price to pay to put an end to all the running around and secrecy anyway. She and Matthew had been back together for over a year now, and it was time she treated their relationship with the respect it deserved, rather than keep hiding him in the background. It wasn't as if she wanted to flaunt it, or share it with the public, but neither would she be intimidated into denying it either, which was what had been happening too much before. They were a couple, and so they would take on all the challenges that being together in public would involve.

"Breakfast, m'Lady," Matthew declared haughtily, wheeling the cart into the bedroom.

"Beautiful. I'm famished," she declared, sliding over to the other side of the bed.

"And yet you barely ordered enough to last us until lunch," he noted. "Fruit, pastries, juice and smoothies? No eggs at all?"

"Unlike you, I can't just shovel food down and make up for it with an extra hour in the gym," she retorted, arching her eyebrow at him. "I'm on a diet. I'm playing a woman five years younger than I am, you know."

"Darling, it's already unrealistic seeing as no struggling singer looks anywhere near as gorgeous as you," he replied easily, shaking his head and getting into bed next to her. "Diet or not, having a proper breakfast is important."

"Yes, thank you, Jamie Oliver," she remarked sarcastically, stabbing a piece of cantaloupe with her fork.

"You missed two of your admirers," he joked, biting into his croissant.

"What do you mean?" she asked, taking a sip of her green smoothie.

"The waiters. They were rather disappointed when I answered the door instead of you," he explained.

"I doubt that," she shook her head.

"Darling, I know of what I speak. I can recognize hope on men's faces when they think they're going to get a glimpse of you, and the intense disappointment when they don't," he said smugly.

"Stop it," she admonished him. "You're exaggerating."

"If I'm exaggerating, then why were they scanning the room like hawks hunting for prey?" he asked.

"Darling, has it occurred to you that perhaps they were wondering if you had anyone here with you?" she shot back. "After all, your profile is higher than mine."

"You're the Emmy award winner," he corrected her. "I think they were hoping to catch you in your bathrobe, or less."

"Not every man is as depraved as you are, I should hope," she grumbled.

"When it comes to you, probably not, but it would be close," he remarked.

She rolled her eyes and took another sip.

"What's going on today? When is Anna coming over?" he asked.

She smirked. "She's not. I gave her the day off."

He blinked. "Did you?"

She nodded. "Mmm hmm. I told her I wanted to spend the day with my boyfriend."

He grinned. "Crikey."

She laughed. "We should at least try and go outside for a little bit."

He nodded. "I would love to. It's you who keeps dragging me back to bed."

"Me?! Dragging you?" she exclaimed, slapping him on the arm.

"God, woman, can't you keep your hands off of me long enough for me to have breakfast?" he asked with feigned annoyance.

"You're so bloody full of yourself!" she snarled, pouncing on him and tickling his sides.

He laughed and fell back to the bed, his hands holding her hips as she continued her playful assault. "And now you're on top of me…so typical…"

She huffed and renewed her efforts.

"This really isn't punishing me at all, you know," he said between fits of smug chuckling. "Especially with you wearing basically nothing underneath your robe."

"You're the insatiable one who's always begging me for it and you know it!" she exclaimed. "Admit it!"

"I don't think I was the one begging this morning. My mouth was too occupied for words, rather," he hummed confidently.

She straddled him and pressed his arms to his sides. "I don't beg!"

"Care to test that theory?" he questioned, giving her just enough time to look at him quizzically before he easily flipped her over, opened her robe and tickled her in the precise spot below her ribs that he knew was her undoing.

"Ah! Stop it! Matthew!" she squealed, laughing raucously. Her hands slapped at his chest in vain.

"That sounds like a request, not quite begging just yet," he noted, continuing to tickle her while his lips sought out her exposed breast.

"Oh God, you vile, merciless bastard!" she choked out, arching her back and turning towards him.

"Still doesn't sound like you're begging. Maybe you were right after all," he noted, moving one hand along her panties while his mouth resumed its attentions.

She did end up begging him a while later, though to be fair, it wasn't for him to stop.

 **El Chato Taco Truck, Los Angeles, California, September 18, 2017**

"Holy! Here we go," Alex groaned, shaking his head at his phone. He showed it to his wife and took a bite of his taco al pastor.

Anna smiled at the image on his phone. Mary had posted a photo of Matthew smiling and wearing sunglasses standing outside of the Armani boutique on Rodeo Drive.

"What?" she asked. "It is Monday."

He rolled his eyes. "Since when did Mary ever do Man Crush Monday?"

"She's proud of her relationship. What's wrong with that?" she asked lightly.

"Nothing," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. He placed his arm around her and guided her down the sidewalk. After finally getting out of the hotel, they had walked for a while, holding hands and just enjoying the warm weather. After spending the past few weeks touring around Paris, Los Angeles wasn't exactly comparable when it came to sightseeing, but they enjoyed themselves anyway. It was so refreshing to just spend time together, remembering some of the funny moments from last night, commenting on different people and places they passed on their stroll, and just be a normal couple.

"How much longer is filming scheduled for?" he asked.

"Actually, Paul added some more pages this morning," she replied. "We're supposed to be another month, but it looks like he may want Mary to shoot through to November now."

"New pages? So deep into filming?" he questioned.

"Maybe it's more common in France? I don't know. It's not as if Mary has anything else scheduled, so I suppose she won't mind," she mused.

"So about another six weeks in Paris. Not bad," he noted.

She smiled at him. "I'll make it worth your while."

He leaned down and kissed her quickly. "I expect you will."

She laughed and held on to his arm with both hands as they walked.

"You know, my fertile window ended last week," she said quietly.

He looked at her curiously. "Yeah, I knew that. I didn't think you would want to talk about it."

"Thank you," she said earnestly, looking up at him. "Last night, you never forced me into anything, and I know you must have been thinking about it. I'm still terrified of getting pregnant again."

"You're terrified of it going wrong. You're not terrified of getting pregnant," he pointed out. "Anyway, I assumed you were back on the pill, but I didn't want to try anything, especially since both of us drank so much."

She nodded in understanding and took a deep breath. "I never went back on the pill."

He blinked. "You didn't?"

"I wouldn't make that decision without telling you," she explained. "I've kept taking my vitamins and supplements and everything. My cycle has stayed the same. I wasn't in my window when I…went to him. I actually took precautions before I did."

She blushed furiously and looked down at the pavement, hating that she brought up that horrible episode once more.

He frowned and nodded. "I see."

"You said…" she began, before pausing and composing herself. "You said that you would always stand by me, even if I…even if I lost your baby again."

"I did," he confirmed, pulling her closer and kissing the top of her head.

She leaned in and looked up at him, though both of them wearing sunglasses made it harder to read him. "Would you still?"

He nodded immediately. "I love you, Anna. You're my wife. I would never leave you over something like that."

She swallowed, feeling the intensity in his voice. Looking away, she kept hold of his arm, walking for several moments in silence.

"You were always right," she whispered. "I want a family with you. I still do. I want to give you children so badly."

"I want children with you, too," he echoed. "But you don't owe me a family, love. We're already a family. We can go as slowly as you want."

She nodded, looking straight ahead for a while, her pulse beating fast.

"Are you sure that you trust me with this?" she asked, unable to look at him. "I haven't exactly been the most stable woman these past few months. Maybe I'll be a shit mother, too."

He stopped and gently directed her off to the side, bringing her beneath one of the many towering palm trees along the road. Taking hold of her shoulders, he turned her to face him, drawing her anxious gaze up to his eyes.

"You're going to be a wonderful mother," he stated firmly. "There will be crazy, sleepless nights, moments where both of us have no clue what we are doing, and times when the most basic tasks seem completely impossible. We'll both wonder many, many times why we were so stupid as to want to take this on. It's going to be the most ridiculous, amazing thing, and there is no one I would rather go through it all with than you."

She reached up and took hold of his wrists, rubbing his arms desperately.

"I love you," she pleaded. "I just don't know if I'm strong enough to go survive all of it again."

"You are," he assured her. "And you won't go through it alone. One step at a time and whatever happens, or doesn't happen, we'll deal with it."

She nodded and took a deep breath. "All right. We can try again. If you really think I can do this, then we can try again."

He smiled and kissed her softly, hugging her tight.

"I don't know how long it's going to take this time," she mumbled shakily. "I'm really just in it for all the sex."

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "No problem. You're going to get a ton."

"Promise?" she asked, looking up at him and biting her lower lip.

"Absolutely," he declared, kissing her again. She wasn't talking about the sex, and he knew it.

They eventually resumed their walk. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and scenarios that seemed intimidating and terrifying. Feeling his strong arm around her shoulders calmed her a bit, and helped her set aside her worries for the moment. Her next fertile window wouldn't be for several weeks, so she could start worrying at that time.

 **Playa de Izturun, Zumaia, Basque Country, Spain, September 22, 2017**

"And cut! That's great, everyone! Take 20 minutes!"

Matthew stepped off the boat and on to the small pier. He held out his hand and helped Rooney follow behind him before heading down the dock towards their trailers. It was another gorgeous day, the heat having let up a touch, but the sun still shining brightly. Though San Sebastían was a decent-sized town and the surrounding area was well settled, it was still a remote location compared to Madrid or Paris, and the anonymity that he enjoyed here was welcome. He didn't really think about the lack of attention as much before, but he treasured it now.

His and Mary's last full day in Los Angeles earlier in the week had been wonderful. They went for a walk along Rodeo drive and had Japanese for lunch. There was paparazzi near the hotel, but otherwise they were left alone. He went to the gym while she went shopping, and he spent most of the afternoon on the phone discussing future projects before meeting her for dinner.

He had put off taking meetings during the weekend so he could support Mary. There were scripts that he was weighing for his next film, and Armani wanted him involved in their next cruise wear campaign. Though the opportunities were intriguing, he hadn't made up his mind as to what he wanted to do next. He already had three films coming out in 2018, and for the health of his relationship, and his own sanity, taking time off was appealing. Some acting couples would either work together or make sure they were working in the same city to make give themselves some sense of normalcy. Taking it a step further, he pondered trading off with Mary, where he would not work while she did her next project. It was a good idea in theory, except that she didn't have a next project at the moment, and it depended on her agreeing not to work while he was filming, and he wasn't entirely confident she would.

His telephone calls were quite productive, still. Studios were more interested in him than ever, and though he didn't want to hear it, there was talk about him being nominated for his supporting role in _Shattered_. It made no sense to him that he would be the one singled out from the four performances in the film, and so he tried to ignore the rumours.

His phone was also blowing up for a much more annoying reason. Normally he didn't have to worry about his social media accounts. If there wasn't an Armani campaign going on, he seldom had anyone paying attention to him. From the moment he and Mary made their debut on the red carpet, he had paparazzi, fans and even other actors mentioning and tagging him in numerous photos. Seeing Mary posting photos of him on her accounts was delightful, but receiving notifications on all the comments about them was maddening.

 _'Mary and Matthew are such couple goals!'_

 _'Mary went and found herself a man even hotter than Henry! Slay, Queen!'_

 _'I see you hitting that, Matthew! Respect!'_

He had to change his account settings to stop all the pop-up messages from draining his battery. Mary also told him it was far better to just ignore most of the photos and all of the comments. Anyone who they knew would talk to them directly, and anyone who tried to reach them through social media usually weren't worth talking to. Her advice didn't necessarily put him at ease. He wondered who exactly was sending her direct messages and such.

They had a wonderful dinner before retiring to their suite. Taking separate flights back to Europe meant they wouldn't see each other again until mid-October, and their lovemaking reflected that sense of urgency.

They were barely inside the room when she threw him against the wall and dropped to her knees. She almost overwhelmed him with her hands and mouth over before he lifted her up and turned her around, taking off her dress and thrusting his fingers inside her from behind. He kissed and licked her neck, making her cry out when he sent her flying. They stumbled to the bedroom, kissing frantically and removing the rest of their clothes.

He woke up around 4 a.m. and watched her sleep in his arms. Her Emmy was sitting on the nightstand. The moment felt so perfect. It didn't matter which one of them was richer, more famous, more in demand. They were together and happy.

Reality set in when the morning came.

They were photographed leaving the hotel, as expected. They were photographed arriving at the airport with Alex and Anna, also expected. Rosamund called shortly after they entered the lounge. Her warning wasn't needed. The televisions told them all they needed to know.

 _'Emmy award winner Mary Crawley celebrated her victory with her new boyfriend, Matthew Crawley. The two childhood friends turned lovers were spotted at numerous after-parties all over L.A. But is he really that new? Rumours out of England suggest that the two dated prior to Mary getting her big break with Paladin, the show that would launch her career. She reunited with Matthew last year when they starred in the film Shattered together. At the time, she was rumoured to be involved with her Paladin co-star, Henry Talbot. So what's the story? Is Matthew the former boyfriend who won her back, or is he the other man who she left Henry for? For now, none of their respective camps are talking, but Henry did arrive solo for the Emmys, and despite winning his third golden statue, was visibly subdued after the ceremony according to our sources. Did the sight of his ex with her new flame bring up a lot of painful memories? Time will tell, but it seems that Lady Mary, the granddaughter of Oscar winner Violet Crawley, may take after her scandal-plagued father more than originally thought.'_

The lounge was packed with travellers. The rest of the airport was even busier. He found four chairs in a corner for them, but it was hardly secluded. They had to endure over an hour of the stupid gossip story playing on a loop every ten minutes. Rosamund said that Henry's people swore they hadn't fed the rumour to the press. Matthew didn't believe them, but it hardly mattered. What was supposed to be a beautiful moment – finally not having to hide that he was with Mary – was ruined.

Mary pretended to not be bothered by it. She told him that they had to expect rumour and gossip about them. They were a new couple. Fans and media alike would be starved for anything they could dig up about them. It wouldn't be so oppressive in Europe. She was right about that. No one noticed him once he got back to San Sebastían. She assured him that she wasn't getting any extra attention in Paris, though there was obviously more media there. Still, he knew she was annoyed to be linked with Henry, particularly over their fake relationship. But she didn't want to talk about it, and he didn't push. It was another harsh reminder that some put more importance on who she dating and who her family was than her own accomplishments.

They didn't speak much for the remaining time and too soon she, Anna and Alex left for their gate. He gave her a quick kiss and had barely talked to her since, trading text messages each night and not much else. Both of them had jumped right back into vigorous filming schedules.

"So my sister said she met you last weekend," Rooney mentioned.

He blinked and came back to the present. "Oh, right! At the HBO party. Sorry, I should have mentioned it the other day. She's nice. We had a good talk."

"She loves your accent," she laughed. "She's way friendlier than me, huh?"

"I wouldn't say that. You're friendly when you let people in," he joked.

"You think I've let you in?" she asked playfully.

"God, I hope so. If this is you being aloof then all those rumours about you are way off," he countered.

"They are way off," she complained. "But she's still nicer than me."

"Maybe she just felt an obligation to be nice because we're working together but she really told you that I was a milquetoast bore," he suggested.

She laughed and shook her head. "She doesn't use the word 'milquetoast'."

"She doesn't, or she didn't?" he asked. "Or did she merely say I was boring?"

She smiled knowingly and gave him their usual high-five before heading off to her trailer.

He smirked and shook his head before disappearing into his.

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, September 23, 2017**

"There! Right there!" Paul pointed at the monitor. "That look. It is wrong."

Mary frowned but stopped herself from rolling her eyes. She sat forward on the sofa in his office, staring at the large television on the wall showing a rough cut of the scene they had just spent six hours shooting that morning. He had paused it on a close-up shot of her face as she looked at Vincent.

"What's wrong with that?" she asked.

"You look scared, nervous, anxious. I do not want that," he scoffed. "Lily is in control here. She is the one who is confronting him, accusing him, she is the aggressor. You must look more confident, more fiery."

"Fiery," she repeated.

"Yes, fiery," he confirmed. "You have been planning, waiting for this moment, and here it has arrived and you have the advantage over him. You must feed on that, feed on his surprise and his fear, not show your own."

"But she is afraid of him," she noted. "She's asking him to leave her alone. I don't believe most women would be confident in this situation."

"There is a change in her here," he continued. "She is no longer the amateur, the prey. She is a huntress now. She knows of his interest, his obsession and she is going to use it for he own advantage. Have you read the new pages?"

"I have," she advised. "There is a marked change in her personality."

"Exact! She is strong now, embracing her power over him, her hold. You must show that. This is a battle and you have the weapons to fight. You are not asking him to leave you alone, you are telling him."

She nodded slowly. "All right. What about the rest of the scene?"

"The rest I can use," he nodded, waving his hand dismissively. "This moment here, I can either show your face or his. His face will show what I want – the shock, the surprise. If you want me to use you, you give me what I need."

"I will," she replied right away.

"Bon," he stated. Opening a drawer, he took out a file folder and passed it to her. "This is for you."

She took it from him and opened it, scanning the papers quickly. Her eyes widened as she went, taking a moment to check it all over before she looked up at him.

"What's this?" she asked.

"I think it obvious," he answered casually.

"You want me for your next film?" she questioned.

He nodded. "I do. I think you would fit. It is a more complicated role, a more emotional one. The movie is about a woman who has three lovers, and she loses each of them at different times in her life."

"Sounds uplifting," she noted, looking at the contract again.

He chuckled. "It is an examination of the journey of life, the joy and pain of this character through many years. I think it is beautiful, no? We see her at her best, and at her worst. I think it do very well."

She turned to the script. "The lead is English?"

"She is. You would only have to adjust your accent a bit, and you would speak a small amount of French, but it would suit you, I think," he replied.

Her mind processed all of it, trying to calculate various paths and outcomes. She didn't have anything lined up once this film wrapped. She was going to go back to Downton and hope for something in the New Year. This project would fit that schedule and also guarantee her to be working for the first half of 2018, and with Paul, a director that she was already comfortable with.

"Most of the filming will be here, but I am pushing the studio to allow me to go to Nice for a month in the Spring," he added.

She smiled at him. "The Riviera. Well, well, that does sound attractive," she remarked.

He smiled and nodded.

"I'll need to review the script, and speak to my agents," she continued, watching him carefully. "I am very interested, though. Thank you for thinking of me."

"Of course, do what you must. I need your answer before we wrap here. The studio won't proceed with the rest of the casting until I tell them who will be my lead actress," he explained.

She blinked. "Is that what you did with me on this film?"

He smiled and nodded. "You were my first. Everyone else came after."

"I'm flattered," she admitted. "No one has ever built their project around me."

"I like to know what I have to work with before I begin. There are less surprises, then," he stated. "There are some projects that I do not touch. They are good stories, good potential, but if I do not think I have the right lead to carry the picture, to present my vision, then I do not go. There is much I think I can do with you, _Marie_. I see three, four movies that we can make. First, we finish this one. After, we do the next and see how we go, yes?"

She nodded. "I'm up for that."

"Bon. Now, go and practice this look again and we try after lunch," he pointed at the monitor.

She nodded and rose from the sofa, taking the file folder with her. Stepping over to him, she traded cheek kisses with him before leaving for her trailer.

He turned back to the monitor and stared intently at her frozen face.

 **Flat of Alexander Green, Chelsea, London, England, September 28, 2017**

Green took a swig of beer and set the bottle down on his desk. He turned to his keyboard and stared at the screen. It was always easier for him to text from his laptop. He liked having a full keyboard to work with, rather than swipe his fingers across a screen. For important conversations, it helped him get his message across without typos or autocorrect errors.

 _'I'm coming to Paris. Tony owes me some time off.'_

He waited, sipping his beer slowly. He expected the message would come as a shock, which was what he wanted. She needed to be off-balance, constantly reacting to what he said.

 _'When were you thinking?'_

He smiled and set the bottle down.

 _'You tell me. I'm coming to see you.'_

Months ago, he would have been far more patient, but his time with Anna in London had revealed a submissive side to her that he found intoxicating. She hadn't just innocently flirted with him that night. She had come to him, offered herself to him, and no matter what excuses she had told herself since then, she couldn't forget it. He could now be more forceful with her, act more dominant, knowing it would stir something dark inside of her and draw her repressed feelings back to the surface. What she wanted from him was one night of recklessness. He would give her far more than that.

 _'We're really busy. We're pulling 16-hour days to finish on time.'_

He laughed and shook his head. So predictable. And still, her answer was instructive. She didn't say 'no' outright, didn't tell him that she didn't want to see him, didn't try and say what happened between them in London was a mistake. Instead, she hid behind an excuse, which meant if he tore down her excuses, she would have nowhere left to hide.

 _'I'll see you whenever. Just find the time. You can fit me in.'_

He smirked and hit the 'send' button. He could imagine her staring at the screen, feeling nervous and yet aroused, whether she wanted to or not. She could tell herself that it would be a one-time thing – that he would be in the city, then leave. She might even justify it to herself by saying once she finally slept with him, it would be out of her system and she would be over it. If she only knew how deep he was going to get his hooks into her.

 _'October 13 weekend works. We're filming each day, but should be wrapped by 10 each night.'_

He nodded in amusement. Checking his calendar, he grinned. Friday the 13th. Perfect.

 _'Done. Which night is mine?'_

He reached down and touched himself, his arousal flaring at the thought of having her in a few short weeks.

 _'You decide. I've got nothing planned outside of work.'_

He blinked in surprise. Not knowing whether to press his luck, he paused for a moment, typing a reply, then deleting it, then typing it again.

 _'What about your husband?'_

He hit 'send' before he could talk himself out of it. There was no point pretending with her anymore. She had to understand what was going to happen. He was coming into town to fuck her. If mentioning he husband scared her off or made her rethink their plans, he didn't care. It was too late for her to pull out now. He was showing up regardless.

 _'He won't be here. I'll call him beforehand so he doesn't interrupt us.'_

He laughed triumphantly, drinking his beer and saluting the screen.

 _'Sounds good.'_

When he hit 'send', his imagination exploded. He saw her naked, handcuffed to the bed, her eyes glazed over, the drugs flowing through her veins, turning her into his addicted whore. He touched himself again, grinning as he thought of various scenarios. Maybe he wouldn't bother bringing her to his hotel. Maybe he would just conquer her in her own apartment.

 _'I have to go. Mary's summoning me. Let me know what your itinerary is once you book it.'_

"Anna Smith, you fucking beauty," he chortled, nodding his head.

 _'Will do. Night.'_

He opened up another window and began typing out a list of items he would need for his trip, his eyes bright and his wide grin baring his teeth.

 **Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Le Marais, Paris, France, September 28, 2017**

Anna shivered, biting her lower lip and staring down at the floor. Her pulse was racing and she breathed through her nose to try and calm herself. Her stomach heaved with the urge to retch. Dark sensations came to her mind – the scent of weed, the cold bite of handcuffs on her wrists, the sting of his hands on her body, the sound of her helpless moans.

"You all right?"

She blinked and turned, her husband's concerned face watching her carefully. Closing her eyes for a second, she nodded her head before looking at him again.

"He can't hurt you," Alex said firmly. "I won't let him."

She swallowed and nodded, taking her phone back from him. She hit the 'home' button and set the phone down on the coffee table, not wanting to see the texts, as if they would bite her somehow if she was even holding the phone.

He reached over and took her hands in his, rubbing his fingers back and forth over hers. His touch was so warm and she leaned into him, a ragged breath leaving her lips.

"I'm so sorry," she choked out.

"Shh," he said, drawing her into his hold and pulling her down on to the sofa. She curled against him and he kissed the top of her head. "No more apologizing."

"Do you think this will work? Drawing him here?" she asked quietly.

He sighed. "It's a start. Who knows if he'll talk, but he's really the only lead we've got on who might have stolen the video from Lord Grantham. I'll just have to convince him to tell us what he knows."

"What if it was him all along? What if just found the video online?" she asked.

"I don't think so. He wouldn't have been able to get that video of Mabel online. He had to dig to get that, not to mention how did he know it existed in the first place? The file stamp on Lord Grantham's video shows that he downloaded it before the story in The Guardian was published. That's highly suspicious," he replied.

She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent, hoping it would help wipe away her unwanted feelings and memories. "I love you."

"I love you too. I know it sucks that you have to be the bait, but you'll be safe, I promise," he vowed.

"I know. I got myself in this mess, so it's only fair that I help get myself out of it," she noted.

He kissed her again and held her close.

"Babes?" she asked softly after several minutes of silence. "Can I tell you something?"

"Yeah," he replied. "What is it?"

"This is so fucked up, but when you were texting him for me, I…I thought that was…exciting," she whispered.

He turned and looked down at her anxious face. "You did?"

She nodded. "Not the idea of him and me, but just seeing you take charge and do that, seeing you protecting me, I…I was kind of turned on."

He blinked. "Oh. Well, it is pretty exciting. We're scheming and setting a trap for him, it's like some secret agent, James Bond-type shit."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Something like that. You aren't disgusted by me, are you?"

He shook his head immediately. "No, love, come on. I want you to tell me things like that. I want you to confide in me. I don't want you to keep all of that in."

"I don't know, it was just so hot watching you, seeing you in command like that," she mumbled.

He smirked. "You like that, eh?"

"I love it when you take control," she hummed, moving up and kissing him softly. "It feels good to have you on my side."

"I am on your side," he affirmed, kissing her back. "We're going to get through this together, love."

She nodded and rested her head on his chest, linking her hand with his across his stomach.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, October 5, 2017**

"I must admit that I was surprised to see you and Matthew at the Emmys together," Tony said.

Mary rolled her eyes, thankful that he couldn't see her reaction over the phone. "That was sort of the point. I wanted to make a bit of a splash, and Matthew served the purpose. He's an Armani model, we were in _Shattered_ together and he's got a nice little career going. It worked out well."

"You both were all over the media for a few days," he agreed. "I just thought it all ended when you left London years ago. I never expected you to rekindle anything with him."

"Oh, I haven't, really. It was just for the Emmys," she replied, smirking hopefully.

"What?" he sputtered. "But you've been posting so many photos of him these past few weeks."

"All part of the show," she answered. "We're not actually together. It's just to help our profile in the States. If I'm nominated for anything else, we'll keep it up, and we both have movies coming out next year, so we'll appear at those premieres at what not."

"I see. So the same thing that you had with Henry?" he asked.

"Yes, in a way, except that Matthew isn't nearly as annoying," she laughed. "Anyway, enough about me. How are you? Your run in the West End was well received."

"It was, yes," he stated proudly. "I'm going to take it easy through the holidays, I think. It's been nice being back in London with the family, so I'm in no hurry to jump into anything else. I've got a few different options come January."

"Ah, if you're so unoccupied, we'll have to catch up soon! I'm going back to London in November once we wrap here," she revealed, rolling her eyes again.

"I look forward to it," he said cheerfully.

"I'll let you know once my plans are firmed up. The schedule here is brutal this month, but I should know later on when I'll be released. I have to go to Downton, of course, but I'm sure I can find time for you," she finished.

"Excellent," he commented.

"All right, I should go. I need to run lines again for tomorrow. Good night, Tony."

"Good night, Mary."

She hung up the call and groaned, taking a quick sip of her water to try and cleanse herself.

Her mood improved immensely when her laptop screen lit up.

"Hello, darling," she greeted Matthew, answering his video call. "God, I am so glad to see you."

He smiled. "Right back at you. Long day?"

"Very," she confirmed. "Filming was difficult, but I had to talk to Tony just now, which made everything much worse."

He shook his head in amusement. "Ah, I see. And did he go for it?"

"Completely," she said ruefully. "He's probably already making lunch reservations for every day during the first two weeks of November."

"Lunch and dinner, knowing him," he grumbled.

She smiled. "Now, now, darling. Don't be jealous."

"Me jealous of Tony?" he exclaimed. "That's a good one."

She laughed and smiled at him. "Well, on more positive news, I've decided to accept Paul's offer."

He nodded. "That's wonderful, darling. So the script meets with your approval?"

"It's unlike anything I've ever seen," she gushed. "It's absolutely all over the place, and the screen time I would have is huge."

"What did Rosamund think?" he asked.

"She was all for it. She says that if the industry saw me as Paul's favoured actress, that would get a lot of attention, maybe even open up opportunities back in the States. This second film has a really good chance of playing the festival circuit, I think. It's very dark and powerful and unlike most mainstream films," she declared.

"Well, good for you, darling. It sounds like you're quite eager about this project, which is great," he said.

She nodded. "I think you'll like it, too. One of my three lovers is a woman."

He blinked. "Really?"

She laughed. "Yes, it's rather typical, actually, when you read the script and see how it comes about, but there's some really profound scenes and it fits so well in the overall narrative of this woman's life."

"So it's not just put in to titillate, you're saying," he remarked.

She arched her eyebrow. "Ask Rooney about what starring in a film about a lesbian relationship did for her career. She was nominated for an Oscar."

He blinked. "She also had a nude love scene with Cate Blanchett."

She smirked, letting his imagination go wild for a moment before she laughed and shook her head. "Don't worry, darling. Paul knows about my policy regarding nudity. There is a kissing scene, but all you'll see is my back."

He frowned. "I'm not worried. I told you – it's your career."

"So you're fine with me having sex with another woman on camera?" she probed.

"If it's in character and serves a purpose, then my opinion would be that there isn't anything inherently wrong with doing a love scene, no, with a woman or a man, involving nudity or not," he clarified. "But the choice is yours in the end, I will repeat. I don't have any right to tell you what to do with your body, either on or off-camera."

She smiled, her eyes playful. "Is that so? It seems to me that you rather enjoy telling me what to do with my body on and off-camera."

He chuckled. "I meant on or off-camera outside the privacy of our bedroom, and various other venues that we've used. And, while we're on the subject, I'm not the only one who has given directions, am I?"

She blushed and looked away for a moment. "Touché."

He grinned at her reaction.

"Anyway, so it seems I'll be back in Paris in January. I hate to think that we'll be apart for the first six months of next year, but it can't be helped," she apologized.

"We'll just have to make the most of November and December," he replied.

She looked at him and nodded gratefully. "What about you? Decided on your next move?"

"I'm going to take my time, I think," he answered, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm not in any rush. I've already got enough coming out next year to either convince everyone that I know what I'm doing, or that I'm a complete fraud, so there's no need to hurry up and book my next role."

She smirked and shook her head. "You are maddeningly attractive when you're so self-assured, you know."

"I thought you hated it when I was overly confident?" he teased.

She arched her eyebrow. "I hate it when you're overly self-righteous, which happens often, but that's more to do with jealousy than anything else, rather. You really seem to be in your stride, darling. It's incredible to see, really. I'm so proud of you."

He nodded. "Well, I'm not an Emmy award winner or anything, but thank you."

She rolled her eyes and huffed.

"Sybil tells me that Carson polishes it every day," he noted.

She frowned. "He does not! It's sitting in the drawing room with all of Granny's awards. It isn't particularly special."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I hear it's got its own exhibit space on the tour," he countered.

"Ha ha, you're hilarious," she grumbled. "Remember what I said about you being maddeningly attractive? Not so much anymore."

He laughed.

She pursed her lips for a moment before looking at him. "Matthew? Are you disappointed in me?"

He frowned. "What? No! Why would you ask me that?"

She glanced away. "All of the scheming I've done lately – using Anna to lure Green to Paris, setting up Tony in case he was involved with Dad's video, committing to Paul's next film to feed my ego – I would have thought you'd be more opposed to all of it, or at least voiced your objections more strongly. Don't you find some of it unnecessary?"

He weighed her words before answering. "If you're asking if I would do the same if I were in your position, no, I wouldn't. That doesn't mean what you're doing is wrong. It also doesn't mean I won't support you. You're doing what you feel you must, and I would never be disappointed in you for that."

"Yes, but it all comes down to me in the end, doesn't it? Confronting Green and maybe Tony is about trying to get to the bottom of the attacks against me and my family. I'm working with Paul again because he is making me the focus of his film, and I'm hoping that his status will get me back to Hollywood. They're choices that you would never make. You'd just accept things as they are and move on," she noted. "Don't you wish that I would do the same?"

"It sounds like you wish you could do the same," he stated, smiling at her warmly. "Darling, loving you means accepting who you are, fully and completely. If you ever do anything that I disagree with, of course, I'll let you know. But I understand how personal your family and your career are to you. Outside of your sisters and Anna, I probably understand more than anyone. Asking you to drop these things and move on would be like asking you to cut off your arm, or be a different person. It's just not possible, so I don't. What you're choosing to do, both in your personal and professional life is risky and challenging and may end up going pear-shaped before our eyes. If so, you'll have to live with the consequences of that. I know that you feel you must do these things, so it doesn't matter whether I think they are necessary, or whether I would do the same."

She sighed and nodded. "It's mostly thanks to you that I feel brave enough to try, so if they end up going all wrong, it's your fault in a way."

He laughed and nodded. "I expected no less."

She smiled. "I love you so terribly much."

"I know you do. I love you more," he retorted.

"You probably do," she agreed. "You're far more capable of love than I am."

"We love each other in different ways," he said. "There's no need to judge."

She arched her eyebrow, running her fingers up and down the neck of her robe. "Well, in that case, I won't bother with what I had planned for you tonight."

His eyes widened. "Well, hang on now, let's not do anything rash."

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "So predictable, you insatiable man."

He tilted his head and smiled smugly, his blue eyes bright.

"Lie back," she ordered, smirking at him as she adjusted the angle of the camera on her computer.


	17. Chapter 17

**Previously:**

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, October 5, 2017**

She sighed and nodded. "It's mostly thanks to you that I feel brave enough to try, so if they end up going all wrong, it's your fault in a way."

He laughed and nodded. "I expected no less."

She smiled. "I love you so terribly much."

"I know you do. I love you more," he retorted.

"You probably do," she agreed. "You're far more capable of love than I am."

"We love each other in different ways," he said. "There's no need to judge."

She arched her eyebrow. "Well, in that case, I won't bother with what I had planned for you tonight."

His eyes widened. "Well, hang on now, let's not do anything rash."

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "So predictable, you insatiable man."

He tilted his head and smiled smugly, his blue eyes bright.

"Lie back," she ordered, smirking at him as she adjusted the angle of the camera on her computer.

 **Chapter 17:**

 **Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Le Marais, Paris, France, October 9, 2017**

Anna knocked lightly on the door to the second bedroom.

"Come in," Alex called from the other side.

She opened the door and went in. Since coming over and deciding to stay, her husband had turned the unused second bedroom of their rented apartment into a study. It was always his intention when they first leased the place to have an office that he could use to review and edit his documents and conduct his conference calls in peace. When he was working, he could get rather intense and locked-in, and she seldom bothered him, particularly since he was required to work at odd hours, depending on what part of the world he was dealing with.

"I made lemonade," she said quietly, coming over and handing him a glass.

He turned his chair around to face her and smiled, accepted the drink and took a slow sip. His eyes remained on hers, and she pursed her lips, her skin warming beneath his stare.

"Thanks, love," he replied, nodding and putting the drink down on the desk.

She smiled and turned to go.

"Wait," he called, stopping her. "Stay a bit."

She turned back around to face him. "I thought you were working."

"I am, but I can take a break," he stated, holding out his hand to her.

She smirked and took his hand, letting him pull her over to stand between his legs. "I don't know if it's proper for you to be engaging in this sort of thing during business hours, Mr. Lewis."

He chuckled. "I didn't mean that. Seriously, I didn't. I just would rather chill with you than go over another financing agreement for the twentieth time."

She allowed him to move her on to his lap, her arm going across his shoulders. He quirked his eyebrows at her and she laughed, giving him a quick kiss.

"Better?" he asked.

"Mmm hmm," she agreed, nodding her head. "So what are you working on?"

He sighed and glanced over at the large monitor linked to his laptop. "Warner Bros is looking for financiers for the _Fantastic Beasts_ series. They've got the second film already in the works, but there's supposed to be five total, so they're looking for investors for the rest of them."

"Ah. I have no idea what story she could possibly tell for four more films, but it shouldn't be difficult getting your clients to sign on," she noted.

"They're all money-makers, but the problem with large scale projects is that everyone gets a cut, hardly anyone is being paid a straight salary, so the potential return actually isn't as huge as you would think. Plus, they can be real headaches with so many different interests involved. That's why some of my clients prefer the mid-range instead. It's less cost, you know up-front what you can expect to get out of it, and if one of them really takes off, it's a windfall," he explained.

She nodded in understanding. Blinking thoughtfully, she turned her head and looked at him.

"Babes? You have lots of people pitching you on their projects, yeah?" she asked.

He nodded. "Sure."

"Has anyone ever…offered…you anything? I can't imagine every studio leaves things to chance with so much money at stake," she continued.

He looked at her in amusement. "What do you mean 'offered'? I'm the one who controls the money, so offering to pay me to facilitate a deal doesn't really work. My commission is usually bigger than any kickback I might get from a studio."

"Right, yeah, but what about perks?" she suggested.

"What sort of perks do you think I've been offered?" he retorted, his hand sliding from her back down to her hip.

She bit her bottom lip. "I don't know. Whenever we go to an after-party, these executives who know you always seem to have these beautiful actresses around them."

"And you think that I would be swayed to commit millions of my clients' money to a project just because I got to fuck a hot actress?" he asked.

She cringed. "No, you wouldn't be swayed, but I wouldn't put it past some studios to offer. They do send their actors over to make their pitches sometimes."

"That's true, they do. I've had meetings where they bring in their most attractive looking staff, yeah, but nothing gets offered," he confirmed. "It's pretty risky to make any sort of proposition like that. If I don't go for it, they could lose out on future deals."

"Still, though. Every man has his price, doesn't he?" she asked.

"And what do you think my price is, love?" he asked, looking at her intently.

"I just wonder if you've ever been tempted. I wouldn't blame you. I'm the last person who should judge," she muttered.

He laughed and lifted her chin to look at him. "Anna, I have never been offered, or tempted," he assured her. "None of the studios would ever even try it with me. Most people in the industry know me, have done deals with me for a while. They all know that I am very happily married."

She smiled sheepishly. "I don't know why you wouldn't contemplate it, though, especially now."

"I have everything I want. You already give me everything I want, and you deserve to be respected, even if you don't think so. Why would I possibly look for anything from any other woman when you are more than enough? Should we watch last night's video again to remind you of how generous you can be?" he asked cheekily.

She blushed and grinned, slapping his chest lightly. "God, I still can't believe you made me do that."

"Hey, I didn't make you do anything," he objected with a smirk.

"No, you didn't," she admitted. "I…really liked it."

He chuckled. "So what's going on with our schedule? Have you figured it out yet?"

She nodded. "I think we'll head back to Toronto first. Stay there through the first bit of December and head to London for Christmas with Mum, if that's okay."

"Sure," he agreed. "Just in time for you to decorate the house."

She smiled. "I miss our house."

"So do I. I miss having you in it," he noted.

She grinned and kissed him. "We've got a lot of missed time to make up for. Now, the thing is that Mary's going to be back here in January to start on her next film. Will you be able to come back?"

He considered her news. "Is that confirmed?"

She nodded. "Lady Rosamund recommended that she sign on with Paul for another movie. Since _The Muse_ won't be released until middle of next year, there isn't really much chance she'll get anything between now and then in Hollywood."

"I might have to travel a bit more. I can't just stay here for six months straight," he mused.

She caressed his cheek. "I want you here. You can decide whatever you want, but I want you to know that I want you here with me. I don't have a right to tell you what to do, but I love living here with you."

He smiled. "Winter in Paris might not be so romantic."

"Oh it will be," she countered, leaning down and kissing his cheek before whispering in his ear. "I'm going to make it so."

He hugged her closer and kissed her lightly. "Are you saying that you have some perks to offer me, Mrs. Lewis?"

She licked her lips and nodded. "I hear there might be a sequel to last night's video in the works, should you choose to stay."

He groaned when his laptop chimed indicating a new email had come in.

"Back to work for you, babes," she teased, getting up off of him. "I'm going to go get groceries for dinner."

He sighed in frustration. "Cool. What time are you heading to the studio?"

"Nine. We're shooting through to six in the morning," she answered, heading out the door.

 **Playa de Izturun, Zumaia, Basque Country, Spain, October 10, 2017**

The wrap party was on the beach, which was both fitting and strange. Matthew had never been to a beach wrap party before. Then again, he had never filmed a movie set on a beach before either. They had spent the majority of the shoot here, months of wandering through the sand and surf, and the makeshift jungle village that had been built nearby. Now with torches and lights illuminating the area, music playing and drinks passed around, the cast and crew were celebrating a job well done before leaving Spain.

Matthew sipped his beer and stared out to the dark water, a calm sense of contentment bringing a smile to his lips. Filming had been a lot of fun, the weather had cooperated the entire summer, and he enjoyed working with Rooney and the rest of the cast. He didn't think this was going to be a blockbuster film, but he expected it would perform all right, and be profitable for the studio. Normally he didn't care about such things, it was all he could do to focus on playing his role. However, developing a reputation as a bankable actor – someone who didn't perhaps always bring in over $100 million at the box office, but someone who was affordable and routinely turned a profit on his films – would prove quite beneficial. Rooney was always doing fantastic work, despite mainly taking on smaller and indie movies. While he had gotten quite lucky with the success of _Shattered_ , and it was guaranteed that _Black Panther_ and _The Irishman_ were going to be huge commercial hits, this was the first film where he was the lead, and making a modest profit would be considered a win.

"Here you are," Lavinia called, coming over and sitting down in the sand next to him. "I wondered where you escaped to."

He smiled. "I haven't escaped. I'm just enjoying the pleasant evening here on the beach."

She chuckled and sipped her beer. "Another successful film wrapped. You're accumulating a rather impressive filmography, Matthew."

"It won't be a success until it's released," he corrected her. "But yeah, it's been a really good year."

"Where to now for you? What's coming up next?" she asked.

"Nothing yet. I'm taking my time," he replied. "I'll be heading to Paris for a few weeks, then back home. In January, I'll see what comes next."

She nodded. "I saw a release that Mary's signed on to do another film with Paul Chaput? That's a rather ambitious move."

"She's enjoyed working with him, and the script is quite interesting," he remarked.

"So she's the next one, it seems," she commented, smiling to herself.

He looked at her curiously. "The next what?"

"The next muse, ironically enough," she laughed. "Paul Chaput is notorious for trusting only a small cadre of actors. There's a handful who are in all of his films. Vincent Cassel, for example. He's worked with him seven times I think it is now. He likes taking actresses and moulding their careers, so that they're always linked to him, no matter what they do. Mary's the next one."

He frowned and took another swig of beer.

"It's quite a compliment, really," she continued. "Like how Woody Allen always works with Diane Keaton or Scarlett Johansson. Paul doesn't just take anyone."

"Mary's only committed to doing a second film. She hasn't agreed to work with him for her entire career," he noted.

"Not yet," she replied. "If _The Muse_ bombs, then he'll grow tired of her and that will be that. But standards here in Europe are different than overseas. If he likes Mary, he'll keep using her."

"What if she doesn't like him?" he asked.

Lavinia laughed and shook her head. "She obviously likes him well enough to sign on for a second film. Anyway, it's early days. I'm just saying that she's made it into the sacred circle."

He frowned and looked away.

"There's nothing to be jealous of, Matthew," she assured him. "He's just a very particular director who has specific tastes when it comes to the women he wants, is all."

"I'm not jealous," he protested with a frown. "If I worried about all the different men that Mary worked with, I'd drive myself mad."

"That's true. It goes both ways, too. I think Rooney's absolutely gorgeous," she replied.

"Exactly! I mean, well, right, of course she is," he agreed, shaking his head.

"How very mature of both of you," she commented.

He frowned and took another drink of beer. "What's next for you? Another film in an exotic location?"

She laughed and shook her head. "No. I'm taking some time off. We want to have a baby and it's rather hard if I'm not back in Liverpool."

He blinked in surprise. "Oh. That's great. You're not wasting any time."

"Well, that was the main reason we got married," she pointed out. "If I didn't want to have kids, I wouldn't have, but since I do, I need to get moving on that."

"That's the only reason you got married?" he questioned.

"Not the only reason," she clarified. "But we could have just stayed the way we were, otherwise. Marriage is about becoming a family more than anything else. I wanted to be married before I had my first child, so that was a big part of it."

He nodded slowly.

"Plus, we're simple folk, Matthew. We're already established in our careers. We have time to think about things like marriage and family," she said smugly.

"I don't only care about my career," he objected.

"But you are developing it still, and Mary especially is all about her career," she replied. "That's why it's so wonderful how supportive you are of each other."

"Of course," he muttered. "Let's head back over. I've got to find Rooney."

She smiled and let him help her to her feet.

 **La Table du Lancaster, 8e Arrondissement, Paris, France, October 12, 2017**

"I didn't see oysters on the menu," Mary noted as the waiter placed a large stainless steel bowl filled with oysters on ice on the table. Another waiter served the sauces and garnishes in small bowls.

"They are not," Paul replied, refilling her wine glass. "Julien sends them out if he has a particularly good batch. It is just the start of the season here, so these must be quite good, from Normandie or la Loire, perhaps."

She nodded in understanding. It ought not to have been a surprise. Whenever she ate here with Paul, they seldom ordered from the menu. Food just appeared from the kitchen, each dish a work of art.

He smirked watching her reach over and take up one of the half shells, add a squeeze of lemon and a touch of mignonette sauce before bringing it to her mouth and tilting it back. She slurped the fish from the wide end and set the empty shell back down.

"Something funny?" she asked, looking at him curiously.

"Non," he replied, shaking his head, reaching for his own oyster. "I am just surprised by you."

"Why? I've eaten plenty of oysters in my time," she noted, reaching for another.

"It just can get a little messy is all," he shrugged.

"I'm not against getting messy if it's worth it, and these are quite good," she remarked, eating her second.

He ate his without any accoutrements and took a sip of wine.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" she posed.

He looked at her suspiciously. "That depends on what the question is."

"Why are you still single?" she asked.

He smiled and took another oyster. "Ah, that is easy. I do not care for attachments."

"Are you saying that love is a waste of your time?" she offered, sipping her wine.

"Non, non, I am a great believer in love," he nodded. "I love my work. I love my food. I love my life."

"You just don't love another person," she commented.

"Non, that is not true at all. I love women very much," he countered, holding her gaze. "But I love them on my terms."

"Hence, no attachments," she noted.

He nodded. "A woman must understand that she has a place in my life. It is a place among all the other loves that I have. She must share me, and women, I find, do not enjoy sharing."

She smiled and nodded. "I would think a woman would be rather insulted to play second fiddle to a platter of oysters."

He chuckled. "Some don't mind, at first, but after a while, yes, they all do."

"And that's when you leave them?" she questioned.

"That's when they leave me," he said softly, raising his wine glass.

She nodded, weighing his words. Allowing the silence to settle, she took another drink of wine.

"Your _mec_ , this one, this _Mathieu_ …" he stated.

She arched her eyebrow at him. "Matthew. Yes?"

"Do you love him?" he asked.

"Yes, I do," she answered. "We've known each other for a very long time, and have been through a great deal together."

"And he loves you?" he probed.

"He does," she confirmed. "On any terms."

He smirked and reached for his wine. "On any terms. How sweet."

She smiled and had another oyster. "You don't believe me."

"Men love when it is convenient. Right now, he may love you because there is nothing else to compete with, nothing else in his life to occupy his time, so loving you is easy, it fills the gaps. The busier he becomes, the more he adds to his life, the harder it will be for him to love you on any terms. At that time, he will only love you on his terms, as I love my women on mine," he concluded.

She shook her head. "He's not like that. You'd be quite surprised at what he's willing to give up for me."

"And what are you willing to give up for him?" he asked.

She looked at him carefully. "Probably not as much, but he knows that."

He nodded. "I see. Well, I hope for you that this will always be true."

"And if it isn't?" she asked.

He waved his hand in the air. "You have ambition, _Marie_. You want to be a star. I can see it. I saw it in your very first audition when we first met. That drive does not have room for others. It does not have room for sentiment and wasted effort. If he loves you and he understands you, then is okay. But if he tries to get in the way of your progress, if he tries to demand that you change, that you lose this drive, then it is finished. When you are older, when you retire, there will be time for love then. Now is the time to work, the time to push, the time to be a star."

She ate her oyster and looked down, considering his words.

"Now, about tomorrow. I made a change to Vincent's lines. Instead of him begging you, he's going to be angry, and I want you to be angry with him in return," he explained.

 **Apartment of Mary Crawley, Le Marais, Paris, France, October 12, 2017**

Mary kicked off her shoes and headed into the living room, her stride lazy and slow. After the oysters, the chef sent out a house-made sausage with black truffles and apples, a poached quince dessert and a different wine to go with each course. The portions were quite small, which was fortunate given how many oysters she'd shared with Paul, and she left the restaurant feeling delightfully buzzed and satisfied. Paul's car took her back to her apartment, the two of them gabbing away about topics ranging from tomorrow's shoot to his plans to fly out to Nice next month to scout for locations for their next movie. He suggested she go with him. She didn't see why she wouldn't. After a hug and customary cheek kisses, she wished him goodnight and his driver took him away.

She dropped her Birkin on to a chair and headed down the hallway, not bothering to turn the lights on. She unbuttoned her shirt as she went, stripping it off once she reached her bedroom. Her skirt followed, and she sat down on the bed and removed her stockings, groaning when she rubbed her tired feet.

No, this wasn't New York, Toronto, or Los Angeles and she wasn't working on a big budget Hollywood film. Still, she was living in a million-euro apartment in central Paris, working with an acclaimed director who believed in her enough to cast her in his next film, and she was eating at Michelin-starred restaurants and going out to posh nightclubs. Her career might have stalled, but she was hardly suffering, at least not yet, not on a day-to-day basis.

She got up and faced the closet, slowly removing her underwear and casting them aside. Running her hands up her body, she closed her eyes and sighed, her fingers moving from her stomach up to her breasts, up to her shoulders and behind her neck as she stretched. Oysters and wine were always a heady combination. She felt warm and giddy. Turning around, she smiled and walked slowly into the ensuite bathroom.

The water always took a few seconds to heat up, the city plumbing being one thing that luxury could not overcome. She closed her eyes and leaned against the glass wall of the shower, just out of the reach of the spray.

A smile curled her lips when she felt large hands on her shoulders.

"What's this? An intruder?" she asked, keeping her eyes closed, her arousal warming her.

"I've come to steal your jewels," Matthew said thickly, his hands sliding down her arms.

"Please don't hurt me, sir," she begged, biting her lower lip when she felt his naked body press against hers from behind. "You can take whatever you want."

"I'm glad you said that," he replied, kissing her neck while his hands came around and cupped her breasts. "I intend to take a great deal, a very great deal."

"Mmm, well I have no choice but to do everything you say," she breathed, turning her head. "Will you be quick about it and leave?"

He growled and moved one hand down between her legs. "No."

She groaned when he pushed her beneath the water, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. She arched her back and spread her legs, finally seizing his mouth in a fierce kiss.

He entered her swiftly, stealing the moan from her mouth. Her arms reached out to brace herself against the shower wall. His hands moved down to take hold of her hips. They leaned forward, the water raining down behind them, steam fogging the glass.

"Oh God! Fuck me! Yes!" she cried, gasping with every firm thrust.

They kissed again, their slick bodies making matters a bit clumsy, but still they continued, moving against each other frantically.

She whimpered and cried out when she released, pushing back and shaking in his hold.

He kept going relentlessly, drawing a moan from her open mouth with every plunge.

When she heard his grunts become harsh and tight, she stepped away from him and turned around, delighting in his suddenly shocked expression. She fell to her knees and guided him into her mouth, his startled groan almost sending her over a second time.

He punched the wall with both hands to stop himself from collapsing, his hips moving at her command. She used both hands on him and he gave in, throwing his head back and roaring in pleasure as he thrust a final time past her lips and let go.

* * *

"I knew you were in the closet," she drawled, bringing his hand up to her lips and kissing his fingers. "You did a rather horrible job of hiding your shoes in the foyer, not to mention I noticed your suitcase peeking out from behind the sofa."

He huffed in exasperation, spanking her bottom lightly and pulling her closer to him, their legs tangling together. "I'm sorry, but I'm not exactly very skilled at sneaking into a woman's apartment."

"I don't think it qualifies as sneaking in when you have a key to said woman's apartment," she retorted, laughing freely. "Please say you're staying beyond the weekend."

"The movie wrapped two days ago. I'm here until we go back to London," he advised happily.

She turned her head and smiled back at him, giving him a quick kiss. "Oh darling, that's wonderful. I'm swamped until we finish, but it'll be so good to come home to you each night. Not to mention, I'm sure Alex will appreciate you being here."

"I just hope that everything goes smoothly this weekend, and that he manages to control himself. The last thing we need is for Mr. Green to charge him with assault, or worse," he grumbled.

"I'm sure he has it all planned out. I just hope it's over with quickly for Anna's sake. I hate to think of her being in the same city as that fiend, let alone the same room," she complained.

"What will you do once we have his confession?" he asked.

"I honestly don't know," she sighed. "It isn't as if anything will really change. I can't run off to The Guardian and claim that just because we discovered the person behind the leak that Papa's scandal is lessened at all. The damage has already been done, for him and for me. Still, it will be good to at least know who's behind it all."

"Where do you think he got that video of Mabel from?" he asked.

"God knows," she shook her head. "I can't say I'm overly surprised. Such nefarious deeds happen more than we realize, sadly. I can't believe she fell for it, though."

"Will you talk to her?" he questioned.

"And say what? 'Dearest Mabel, I found out that you let a man nearly twice your age fuck you to try and get the role on _Paladin_ that ended up going to me. What a shame'?" she demanded. "We're not friends. What would be the point?"

"I suppose nothing can come of it. She already did the deed, as they say," he muttered.

"Literally," she added, rolling her eyes. "First we'll interrogate Green. Depending on what he says, Tony will be next."

"And what if Tony is the one behind it all?" he asked.

"To what end? He's probably the last man who would want to see my family ridiculed and my career ruined," she asked.

"I beg your pardon?" he exclaimed.

"Fine. The second last. You know what I mean," she scoffed.

"I guess we'll have to just wait and see," he concluded.

"Did anyone notice you today?" she asked.

"There were some paparazzi at the airport, but I don't think they knew who I was," he answered. "The concierge remembered me from before, and some of your neighbours seemed to give me a second glance in the lift."

"The press will know you're in town by tomorrow, then. We'll be photographed at some point over the weekend, probably," she predicted.

"Well, a good thing you live on the top floor," he stated.

"Why is that?" she asked, turning and looking at him.

"Because it would make for some rather embarrassing photos if they could see this," he stated, sitting up and turning her on to her back.

She smiled when he slid around and lifted her legs. Her hands reached up and grabbed the headboard when he spread them and pushed them back towards her.

She moaned as he kissed a wet trail down her thigh. His warm breath made her clench just before his lips and tongue swiped over her centre.

"Matthew!" she gasped, turning her head into the pillow as he went about his task with impressive enthusiasm. Soon her hips were bucking against his mouth, and she reached down to press him closer, shutting her eyes tight.

She felt his hand ghost up and around her thigh and she groaned in delicious anticipation. He pressed down with his fingers and pushed in with his tongue and that was it for her.

She shouted out her bliss to the ceiling, his name echoed off the crown moulding and crystal chandelier.

 **Deluxe Suite, Hotel Diamant, 18e Arrondissement, Paris, France, October 13, 2017**

Green's preferred hotel in Paris was perfectly suited for his needs on this trip. Located close to the Moulin Rouge, the area was noisy and lively after dark. The staff didn't ask questions and the other guests didn't pay any attention to him. His usual suite had a high vaulted ceiling, complete with skylight and chandelier, and the linens were red, to match the drapes. The bathroom was modern and spacious for Paris, with a tub and shower, a rare luxury. Most important, there were numerous mirrors throughout, including two with a perfect view of the bed.

He unpacked quickly and texted Anna to let her know he had arrived. Resisting the urge to summon her over right away, he told her he would see her tomorrow night instead, wanting to take this evening to meet with his dealer and make sure he had everything he needed well in advance. He didn't want any delays or distractions from the moment he got her back here.

She confirmed she would see him tomorrow night. He smiled at her reply.

Glancing out the window at the busy streets below, he took out his phone and called Edna to check in.

"What do you want?" was her brusque reply.

"Hello, sweetheart. I'm here," he stated. "Care to grab a drink tonight?"

"No," she spat. "What are you doing here? Oh God, actually don't tell me. I don't want to know."

"Just catching up with old friends," he advised. "I'll be busy for the rest of the weekend, so I can only schedule you in for tonight, I'm afraid."

"My loss, then. I know I'll regret this, but how are you planning on seeing Anna? Her husband only lets her out of his sight so she can go to work," she asked.

He frowned. "He's still here?"

"Of course he is! I just had dinner with them. They couldn't keep their hands to themselves. It was actually quite adorable," she recalled.

He kept his tone even. "Is the call schedule still right? You're filming through the weekend?"

"Yes, but Mary is only in during the day, so she and Anna will be off at night. Too bad for you that she won't be free then anyway," she taunted him.

"What a shame," he said tightly. "Ah well. I'm sure that Paris has plenty to entertain me for the weekend. Sure you won't join me tonight?"

"I'll pass, thanks," she groaned.

"Too bad. We could have relived some memories. Have a good weekend, sweetheart," he finished quickly hanging up the phone.

He stared out the window, his brow furrowed in thought. Anna had assured him her husband would be gone this weekend. What's more, why would she be so affectionate in public if she was getting ready for a liaison with him this weekend?

His mind was still going over this new information when he left his room to go and meet up with his dealer.

 **Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Le Marais, Paris, France, October 14, 2017**

The weather was unseasonably warm this Saturday, and even better, it was sunny for once, the usual rain having let up earlier in the week. As a result, the entire city seemed to be outdoors, everyone taking advantage of some jacket-free warmth and light.

Anna finished up filming by lunch, which freed her up to head home in time to grab a bite with Alex. The weather was so nice that they decided to have eat soup and sandwiches on the sunny patio of a nearby café. She was nervous for this evening's activities, but she tried to be optimistic. She wouldn't have to face Green, after all. Mary, Matthew and Alex would confront him at his hotel, and with any luck he would be sent packing back to London and would never speak to her again. Mary promised her that she would avoid any future projects with Tony. There would be industry events, awards shows and parties where they might cross paths in the future, and that couldn't be helped. Anna told herself that she could just treat him as a professional acquaintance if necessary, and hopefully he would leave her alone. Given his penchant for bedding women, he would likely just move on to his next bitch soon enough and just forget about her.

"Love," Alex called, drawing her attention. "Relax."

She gave him a brave smile and nodded.

"Everything's going to be okay," he assured her, reaching across the table and squeezing her hand.

"I know. I just can't help thinking…oh, forget it," she shook her head.

"What?" he asked with concern.

She sighed. "I just can't help thinking about everything that happened and wondering about all the things I could have done differently. I mean, yeah, he's a perv, and a player, and completely disgusting, but I'm the one who went to him. It isn't as if he forced himself on me."

He frowned. "Anna, he was going to use weed and who knows what else to make you more compliant. He was planning to drug you, put you in a state where you couldn't consent or stop him from doing what he wanted. You didn't ask for that."

She shuddered at the memory and nodded. "I know. I'm not saying he's not to blame or that I have any sympathy for him. I just never should have been in that situation to begin with."

"Ideally, no, but that doesn't mean you're responsible for what might have happened if you hadn't gotten out of there. We're going to deal with him tonight, and you won't have to worry about him again," he promised.

She nodded. "Can we go?"

He agreed and paid their bill. They both got up and headed back to their apartment, his arm around her shoulders.

"Please be careful," she begged, looking up at him as they walked. "I know you'll want to beat the shit out of him, but he's devious, I know that now. Don't do anything that he might be able to use against us later."

"I'll be fine," he nodded. "Yeah, I would love to kick his ass, but it wouldn't serve any purpose. He's no different than any other guy who looks at you and wants to fuck you. It's a waste of my time to get worked up about that. He has information that we want, and we'll get it out of him. That's it."

She put her arm around his waist and reached up and held his hand that was on her shoulder. They just had to make it through tonight and part of her nightmare would be over.

"Are you and Matthew going to go out for drinks after?" she asked.

"I doubt it. Why?" he replied.

"Well, seeing Green is bound to bring up a lot of bad memories, and he'll probably say something rude. I'd understand if you didn't want to see me right after. Maybe you should go out and relax a bit," she suggested.

He pulled her over to the side, just a few metres away from their building. Turning her to face him, he placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Anna, when I'm done with him, I'm coming straight home to you. There's nothing that he could do or say to make me stay away from you. I know what happened. I know how I feel about it. I would never be so angry or disgusted that I don't want to see you. As a matter of fact, I think that I'm going to come back home and fuck your brains out just to stroke my lame ego a bit," he teased.

She smiled. "Why don't you take me home right now, and you can have me, and again later tonight? Will that help your ego?"

He grinned. "Probably will, yeah."

She laughed and put her arms around him. He leaned down and kissed her warmly, squeezing her ass lightly before drawing back.

She smiled at him and took his hand, leading him to their building and disappearing inside.

The happy couple was too engrossed in each other to notice the man wearing dark sunglasses hidden in the crowd of pedestrians across the street, nor did they know he had witnessed their loving kiss.

 **Hotel Le Bon Vivant, 18e Arrondissement, Paris, France, October 14, 2017**

"I can't believe this is considered a four-star hotel on some websites," Mary whinged, frowning as she glanced around at the décor of the hallway.

"Darling, I'm sorry that it's not up to your standards. Perhaps you'd like Mr. Green to stay at the Mandarin Oriental the next time he's in town to seduce a woman?" Matthew suggested sarcastically, shooting her a wry frown.

She rolled her eyes. "It's just so horribly clichéd is all. I expected more from a supposedly skilled lothario such as Mr. Green."

"It's all part of the fantasy, I think. Women don't go to him to be wined and dined and showered with luxury. It's supposed to feel dirty and wrong. He preys on their supposed desire to behave badly, and this setting is designed to be part of that," he explained.

"Well, if you had ever brought me to a place like this years ago, our arrangement would have ended straight away," she stated.

He stopped and turned around, looking at her incredulously. "What? You would have stopped seeing me over my choice of hotel?"

She smirked. "All right, perhaps I wouldn't have called the entire thing off. I would have just told you to take me somewhere better."

"Quite right," he grunted, frowning at her. "End our arrangement…as if that was ever going to happen."

"Excuse me?" she snapped. "I did end it, if you recall."

"I was the one who ended it, actually," he retorted. "When we were about to start filming together, remember?"

"Yes, I told you that it was better if we kept things professional only," she noted.

"You said that after I told you we shouldn't see each other anymore," he shot back.

She arched her eyebrow. "That's not how I remember it."

He rolled his eyes. "Clearly."

"Anyway, the point is don't ever bring me to a place like this, even for a quick romp. It won't help, I assure you," she said haughtily.

"Noted," he said tightly. "The room's this way."

They went down to the end of the hall and found the Deluxe Suite. Mary stood off to one side of the door and Matthew took the other. Reaching over, he knocked sharply.

They waited and watched. Mary frowned, listening for any movement in the room.

Matthew looked at the door suspiciously and knocked again.

"Is this the right room?" she asked.

He nodded. "Room 644. That's what he texted to Anna."

"Maybe he stepped out?" she wondered.

"Why? He's expecting her. We took the same amount of time getting here as she would if she took the Metro," he pointed out.

"Maybe he saw us coming from his window and escaped?" she hissed.

"Why would he do that? He doesn't know we're coming and he doesn't know we want to talk to him," he answered.

She looked at the door again. "Well, he's either not here, or he's not answering and being very quiet. Either way, we'll need to check with the front desk to see if he's here, or call up, or something."

They went back downstairs to the lobby. Mary hung back as Matthew went to speak to the front desk clerk. He returned moments later with a worried look on his face.

"What is it? What did he say?" she asked.

"He said there's no Alex Green staying here," he advised.

"Could he have reserved under another name?" she asked.

"Possibly, but I had him call up to the room and he didn't answer," he revealed. "He wouldn't know it's us calling up, it could be Anna, so he would answer if he was here."

"Text Alex and let's go," she ordered.

He nodded and took out his phone as he ushered her towards the exit.

 **Apartment of Alex and Anna Lewis, Le Marais, Paris, France, October 14, 2017**

Anna's pulse jumped when she heard a knock at the door. Going over and opening it, her eyes widened at the sight of her visitor.

"Hello, Anna," Green smiled, holding up a bottle of wine.

She swallowed and opened the door. "Hi. I thought we were meeting at your hotel. I…I was just getting ready to leave."

He kissed her cheek and gave her a hug before walking past her and into the apartment. She shivered at his touch and closed the door.

"I know that was the plan, but you know, the more I thought about it, the more I thought it would be better if I came to you," he explained, coming into the living room. "You'd be more comfortable here and I want you to be comfortable."

"That's nice of you. Thanks," she said, glancing around nervously.

"Glasses? In the kitchen, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," she answered. "Just through there."

"After you," he smiled, waving his arm dramatically.

She nodded and led the way. Her phone was on the table by the chair she had been sitting in when he knocked. Every step took her further away from it.

They came into the kitchen and she opened the cupboard to reach for the wine glasses.

"Allow me," he offered, his voice deep and smooth in her ear. She shuddered at his closeness, standing right behind her. His one arm rested on the counter next to her, his other reaching for the glasses, trapping her between them.

She watched, frozen to the spot as he placed the glasses in front of her.

"I brought a corkscrew, just in case," he said, his warm breath floating down her face. He was taller than she was, and with him pressed behind her, she felt even more small and helpless. Her heartbeat jumped.

"This is a wonderful Malbec," he explained, removing the cork and pouring two glasses. "You'll love it."

He set the bottle down and took up a glass, stepping away to allow her to take her own glass and turn around to face him. His arousal swelled as he looked at her wide eyes and flushed face. She was breathing quickly, her chest rising and falling beneath the thin t-shirt she was wearing. He could make out the outline of her bra straps, and that enflamed him all the more.

Of course, he had no intention of drinking the wine. He had opened it before so he could add his own special ingredient, then put the cork back in. She would be drowsy within minutes of tasting it, not enough to knock her out, but enough that he wouldn't have any problem getting her out of here and back to his suite. He didn't know what was going on, why her husband was apparently still here, and why she didn't tell him that. Maybe it was as simple as she had given him some excuse so she could get away for the evening. In any event, texting her the wrong hotel would make sure no one knew where they were going, and give him the rest of the night to carry out his plans for her.

"Santé," he said, raising his glass to her. "To a night of fun between good friends."

She dutifully raised her glass in return and brought it to her lips.

He grinned in anticipation.

"Hello, Mr. Green."

He frowned and turned towards the doorway.

She lowered her wine glass.

"A good host always lets his guest have the first sip," Alex smiled. "Come on out to the living room. You'll be more comfortable."

* * *

Anna fidgeted. She rubbed her hands together, paced back and forth, sat down, got back up. Nothing could relieve the tension all through her body.

"I know it's useless advice, but you have to try and calm down," Mary said sympathetically.

Anna nodded and came back down to sit on the bed. It had been close to half an hour since Mary and Matthew had returned. Matthew and Alex had been speaking to Green in the living room. Mary and Anna had left, not wanting to be in the same room, and not wanting to give Green any excuse to say something vile, not that he likely needed one.

"What did I ever see in him?" Anna whispered, biting her lip. "Why couldn't I tell what a monster he was? If Alex hadn't…"

"Shh," Mary said, reaching out and taking hold of her arms. "Don't do this. Don't beat yourself up. You said yourself that a bloody policewoman fell for his charms. Alex has forgiven you. That's what matters. Soon we'll have the information we want and he'll be out of your life. You obviously haven't been entirely yourself for a while now. I'm sorry that I couldn't help you get through it all. It never should have come to you feeling so alone."

Anna blinked and shook her head. "No, you did help me. You tried. Everyone did. I was just so stupid and caught up in this ridiculous fantasy of wanting to run away from my problems, thinking that being a bad girl for a night would help somehow."

"It can help, so long as you're only a bad girl for your husband," Mary smirked.

Anna laughed shakily and hugged her, sobbing on to her shoulder. "God. You must want to find yourself a new P.A. straight away."

"Shut up," Mary scolded her, kissing her cheek and holding her close. "You're my best friend and the best P.A. in the world. Besides, you've got enough dirt on me to keep The Daily Mail busy for years, so I can't get rid of you."

Anna huffed and hung on to her.

Mary kept her arms around her friend while silently hoping that Alex and Matthew were making progress.

* * *

Green looked at the two men with contempt, still unsure as to how he found himself in this situation. They should have been out chasing their tails going to that false hotel that he texted Anna with. He saw her husband leave the building before he came up. How did they discover his ruse so quickly and get back in time?

They had been grilling him for a while now, not about Anna though, about the video of Lord Grantham. How did they even know he had a copy? He didn't like feeling in the dark, at a disadvantage to the lawyer sitting across the table. It was time to go on the offensive.

"How does it feel, knowing that for all your money, for all your caring and generosity, for all you've done as a doting husband, your wife wanted me instead of you?" Green asked, smirking at Alex.

"I prefer to focus on how relieved I am that she came to her senses," Alex answered, his gaze unwavering. "We all make mistakes. Some people have more delusional mistakes than others, and Anna's would fall into that category."

"The only delusion I see is you thinking you can compete. Face it, she doesn't find you exciting, at least nowhere near as exciting as what I have to offer. You caught me this time, but you can't get me out of her head, no matter what you do," Green cackled.

Matthew watched the two men carefully. They were separated by the table between them, but it wouldn't take much for either one to pounce on the other. He was fairly confident that in a fight, Alex would beat the hell out of Green, but it wouldn't help to let that happen, even if a large part of him wanted to see it.

"I'll ask you again. Did Tony Foyle order you to hack into Lord Grantham's network and steal the video of Lord and Lady Grantham?" Alex asked calmly.

"And my answer hasn't changed from the other twenty times you asked. No," Green retorted. "I'm not the only one who has that video, you know. It's all over the place."

"I'm willing to bet that you're one of the few who had it before it was leaked to The Guardian, though," Alex replied, noting how Green flinched a bit at the information. "In fact, I bet you're the one who flipped the video to the media, done precisely to coincide with Mary's premiere in London."

"You do, huh? So fucking what? You can't prove that I hacked into shit just because I happen to have the video on a certain date. Tony didn't order me to get it, and you can't prove that he did," Green sneered. "The Guardian would rather send their reporters to prison than reveal a source, so you don't have shit."

"I'm not asking you anything that the authorities wouldn't ask you. You can answer me or them, your choice," Alex shrugged.

"You're going to snitch on me for having a stupid video? It's not illegal to have porn!" Green scoffed.

"Actually, it is," Alex replied. "Having a private video stolen from the Earl of Grantham of all people does qualify as a crime, and at the very least the police will want to question you. Maybe they'll charge you, maybe they won't, but they will want to talk to you. Lord Grantham will make sure that they do."

Green grunted and looked down at his hands.

"You might want to cooperate, since if the police talk to you, the media will find out, and if the media finds out, I can't see an upstanding citizen like Tony Foyle wanting to keep you employed for very much longer. Having to defend the actions of his personal assistant is the kind of ugliness that Lord Gillingham wouldn't want to deal with. But, you already know that," Alex mentioned.

Green glared at Alex. "Tony won't fire me. He can't."

"And why not? You're nothing special. He could find another P.A. in two seconds. He's probably already got a backup waiting just in case. I imagine this isn't the first time you've gone a little overboard chasing after a woman. That kind of conduct can be the sort of thing that high profile actors don't want to associate with," Alex claimed.

"Doesn't matter what I do, he won't fire me," Green smirked. "I'm fucking Teflon. Nothing sticks to me."

"Some studies say that Teflon is bad for you, actually. Nothing sticks to you, or you have an insurance policy to make sure nothing sticks to you?" Alex asked lightly.

Green frowned.

"Now what would convince Tony Foyle to keep employing a PR-nightmare-waiting-to-happen like you?" Alex thought aloud. "The only thing I can think of is you must have something on him that would be more embarrassing than whatever you could get up to with your shenanigans."

Green grunted and looked away.

"What have you got on him? Is he into drugs? Young girls? Young boys?" Alex pressed.

Green snorted.

"Maybe it has something to do with Lady Mabel?" Alex suggested.

Green blinked.

"I always thought that Tony's relationship with Mabel was more one of convenience, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care about her. Not to mention, it's common knowledge that they've been together for years, so anything negative about her would reflect poorly on him. Having a little punkass bitch for a P.A. isn't so bad, but having a girlfriend with a scandal? Well, I can't imagine the House of Gillingham would appreciate that," Alex continued.

Green shot daggers at him with his eyes.

"So the question is what scandal could Lady Mabel have, and what would you know about it?" Alex mused. He glanced over at Matthew questioningly. Matthew had to call upon all his acting ability to supress his laughter and remain stone-faced.

"Seems to me that you like porn, don't you, you sick fuck?" Alex growled, his eyes locked on Green. "What have you got? A video of Tony and Mabel getting nasty? Is she a screamer? Is that it? Or, is it a video of you and her, maybe?"

"I prefer blondes," Green snarled.

"Yeah, you do, and she probably prefers not catching a disease," Alex replied, unperturbed. "So if it's not a sex video of Tony and Mabel, and it's not a sex video of you and Mabel, who's left? Who could Mabel Lane Fox sleep with that would cause a scandal?"

Green grit his teeth so hard that Alex and Matthew could hear him grinding them.

"Hmm, I don't know, maybe if you had something like…a video of her having sex with a producer during casting for a role, or something. I could see that being pretty sensational. 'Actress falls prey to the casting couch'. That's the kind of headline that would be all over TMZ and The Mirror, and a bunch of other rags right? That's the kind of thing that Tony Foyle would be very motivated to keep quiet," Alex stated.

Green's eyes widened. "You don't know shit."

Alex didn't blink. "Maybe we'll put your job security to the test, if you're so confident."

Green frowned. "You're bluffing."

"Try me," Alex shot back. "Tell me right now who put you up to hacking into Lord Grantham's network and I might be convinced not to send an anonymous video out to certain gossip websites and newspapers. Keep up your tough guy routine and no promises."

"You won't do shit, you fucking pretty boy," Green snapped.

"I won't huh? Mabel Lane Fox doesn't matter to me. You think I care if she gets taken down if it means your ass is fired?" Alex asked.

Green grunted and shook his head. "Fine. It was Tony."

"You're lying," Alex fired back. "You spent the better part of an hour swearing up and down that it wasn't him. Besides, he's got no motive. Why would he want to see the Crawley family humiliated and Mary affected by it?"

Green frowned.

"No, Tony's your boss, but whoever put you up to this had to have it in for Mary somehow. Whoever got you to do this wanted to see Mary's career go up in flames. Who is it? Give me a name or start looking for a new job," Alex warned.

Green pursed his lips.

"It's Mabel, isn't it?" Matthew asked.

Green blinked in surprise.

Alex glanced over at Matthew, then watched Green carefully.

"Mabel put you up to it," Matthew continued. "She would love to see Mary fall. They've always competed for the same roles, and she's always lost. She even lost out to her on _Paladin_ , even though…"

"Even though she slept with the producer," Alex finished.

Green's eyes jumped from one man to the other.

"That's it. Mabel wanted Mary punished for always beating her. She blames Mary for having slept with that producer. He told her that Mary had slept with him and she believed him. She thought she had to do it to compete," Matthew declared.

"But she didn't have anything on her," Alex picked up the theory. "So she waited, allowing her rage at Mary to fester, until she found out about the Panama Papers, and how Lord Grantham might be implicated, and that's when she got you to see what you could dig up, and you not only found the same bank accounts that The Guardian did in the leaked documents, you found a video."

Green laughed, shaking his head. "You don't know shit."

"Matthew, we're about done here. Why don't you go and let the others know?" Alex said, his eyes staying on Green.

Matthew frowned.

"It's all right. Mr. Green and I are just going to have a little talk to wrap things up," Alex stated.

Matthew nodded and left.

"You want a piece of me? Let's go, pretty boy. I'll fuck you up like I was going to fuck up your wife," Green threatened.

"So you're saying you'll be done in five seconds, then?" Alex countered. "No, I'm not going to fight you. It would be too easy, almost unfair."

"Whatever you saw, pussy," Green laughed. "Anymore dumb questions you got for me?"

"No, I got what I wanted. Matthew's right. It was Mabel. Maybe Tony knew about it. Maybe he didn't. But I don't think he had it in him to carry out a scheme like this. You're useless, too. A woman scorned, though, well, that's different," Alex concluded.

"Even if you are right, it won't change a thing. The damage has been done," Green noted smugly.

"Maybe. Does she have anything else planned?" Alex asked.

Green smiled. "I can't remember. Why don't you send Anna in here and I'll see if she can't help jog my memory? I'll even let you watch."

"Yeah, that'll happen," Alex scoffed.

Green laughed and got up from his chair. "We're done here. Keep an eye on that wife of yours. You never know what she might be getting up to behind your back, or with who."

"Hold on. I've got something for you," Alex announced.

Green frowned and sat back down. "What?"

Alex smiled. "A little present from Anna. You can imagine that I wasn't too pleased that she wanted to give you something, but she insisted."

"And you always do what she wants, don't you?" Green laughed. "You fucking pussy. So what is it? Some photos?"

"No, just audio," Alex replied, pressing 'play' on his phone.

Green frowned as the sounds of moaning and gasping came from the phone speaker.

 _'Oh God, Alex! Fuck me! Fuck your wife! Yes! So good! So good! Oh God, you're amazing!'_

Green's eyes widened. His mouth fell open, listening to Anna's cries, her filthy words directed at the man sitting across the table from him. It was impossible for him to pretend it was meant for anyone else. She begged, and pleaded, and described in vivid detail everything that they were doing. She said he owned her, said she would do anything he wanted, said he was the best she'd ever had. Her voice was sometimes breathy, sometimes loud, sometimes aggressive. It was dirtier than anything Green had ever seen or heard, and it made him want to throw up.

Alex hit 'stop' just as Anna was about to go over. His own heartbeat was racing, and he allowed a grin to fill his face as he looked at Green's scowling one.

"Here's the thing, Mr. Green," Alex said, his voice light but firm. "If Anna wanted to sleep with you, she could have. If she wanted to cheat on me with you, she had plenty of chances. So it wasn't me that stopped her from going through with it. It was you. Whatever she saw in you, whatever game you ran on her, it was probably about to work, until she saw something in you that she didn't like, until she saw something in you that wrecked whatever you had gained. You remember that. And you remember that I get to be with the woman that you wanted, but didn't get."

Green snarled, baring his teeth. He got up from the table and stormed towards the door.

"Oh, and Mr. Green?" Alex called.

Green stopped, his hand on the doorknob.

"I don't have to drug women to sleep with them either, you fucking piece of shit. Drug facilitated sexual assault is rape. Now I know Anna isn't the first woman you tried to seduce. I find out you even think about her ever again, and you'll be the new P.A. for every lifer in Wandsworth Prison. Now get the hell out of my house," Alex ordered.

Green slammed the door behind him.

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, October 15, 2017**

Anna took her tray from the cafeteria line and walked over to the tables. Weaving along the aisles, she came to a stop and sat down.

"Hi," she said, picking up her fork.

"Hi," Edna replied nervously. "You all right?"

"I am now," Anna nodded. "I don't think I'll be hearing anything from my mutual former friend anytime soon."

Edna pursed her lips and nodded. "Good. I'm glad. Hopefully, he leaves me alone, too."

Anna ate a forkful of salad.

Edna took a sip of her orange juice and hesitated before speaking further. "I really am sorry, Anna. I never wanted anything to happen to you, but he had a lot on me from the past. I didn't realize when I told him that Alex was still in town that he would…"

Anna shook her head. "We don't need to talk about it. What matters is that you warned us about him. It helped us change our plans and ultimately saved the day. I know a little bit about feeling like you're stuck. It was very brave of you to help me, and I'm grateful."

Edna looked down at her tray. "I really do like you, Anna. I didn't make that up. I know it's a lot to ask, but do you think that we could…"

"We're friends," Anna interrupted her. "Mary's going to be working with Paul on another movie, so you and I will be working together for a while yet."

Edna smiled and nodded.

"It might be a while before I can have another girls' night out, though," Anna warned. "Alex sort of doesn't let me out of his sight these days."

Edna smirked. "From what I saw at dinner the other night, I didn't notice you complaining. In fact, it seemed to me that you were the one hanging on to him."

Anna smiled and continued eating her lunch.


	18. Chapter 18

**Previously:**

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, October 15, 2017**

Edna looked down at her tray. "I really do like you, Anna. I didn't make that up. I know it's a lot to ask, but do you think that we could…"

"We're friends," Anna interrupted her. "Mary's going to be working with Paul on another movie, so you and I will be working together for a while yet."

Edna smiled and nodded.

"It might be a while before I can have another girls' night out, though," Anna warned. "Alex sort of doesn't let me out of his sight these days."

Edna smirked. "From what I saw at dinner the other night, I didn't notice you complaining. In fact, it seemed to me that you were the one hanging on to him."

Anna smiled and continued eating her lunch.

 **Chapter 18:**

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, November 17, 2017**

Matthew sipped his drink and glanced around the cavernous room, marveling at the bizarre mash-up of venues combined into this one space. Normally a film set, the large warehouse-like area was now converted to host the wrap party for Mary's film, _The Muse_. A dance floor took up one side, complete with flashing lights, fog machines, and thumping, bass-heavy dance music, most of it in French. A bar and rows of mismatched couches were set up along the opposite wall, with actual real lighting and enough buffer so that one didn't need to shout to have a conversation. The catering tables were in the middle so that those who wished to dance could come over and grab a snack, and those who preferred to sit or stand didn't have to risk their hearing to have a bite to eat. All of the film equipment had been pushed off to one end, giving a surreal tableau to the entire party – the humans dancing and celebrating, while the dormant machines watched from the shadows.

"If it isn't the man of the hour," Alex noted, coming over and tapping glasses with Matthew.

"Where?" Matthew asked, glancing over his shoulder in jest. "You can't possibly mean me. I had no involvement in this production."

"No, but you have been rather prominent in the French media this week," Alex replied. " _Mary et Matthew_ – isn't that what they call you?"

Matthew huffed and sipped his drink. "Those are our names, yes. Anyway, I didn't plan to be photographed so often. It just sort of happened."

"Right, just like you just 'sort of' ended up at some of the busier places in the city where anyone with a phone would immediately recognize the two of you," Alex replied with a smirk. "Judging by how often you were caught smiling, one would almost say you enjoyed it."

"Don't be ridiculous," Matthew grunted. "It's annoying how we're being stalked everywhere we go."

Alex looked at him pointedly.

"All right, fine," Matthew relented. "Maybe a small part of me, a very small part, enjoys the attention just a little bit. I had to put up with people going ape shit over Mary and Henry for so long, I think I'm entitled to have a bit of fun with it all now."

"Of course," Alex agreed. "You're not the first man who enjoys showing his woman off."

Matthew laughed drily. "Why does it sound so pathetic when you say it?"

Alex shrugged his shoulders and took a drink.

"Where's Anna?" Matthew asked.

"Where else? Dancing with Mary," Alex replied. "They'll be by soon, probably."

"Because she can't stand being apart from you for more than 10 minutes?" Matthew asked sarcastically.

"No, because they'll need more drinks," Alex answered.

Matthew chuckled and nodded. Considering that the French film was a smaller production compared to the movies Matthew had worked on recently, it was a bit surprising to see so many people at the party. Surely not all of them were actually involved with the movie? However, the way these things worked was that the studio executives and staff came out, which in turn drew the marketing people and vendors and suppliers, and each of them took along a date to impress, which brought the number of revellers into the hundreds. There were old men in business suits and older women in staid dresses laughing and partying it up with millennials wearing club attire. He didn't know what this said about the movie's commercial prospects, but for one night at least, everything was possible.

Mary and Anna arrived within the hour, giggling and holding on to each other. Though Anna was much shorter, she was wearing rather high heels tonight. Mary had come in flats, still expensive, but practical. They were both wearing slinky short dresses and had the hair and make-up people attend to them. The ending of a film shoot was always a mix of joy, nostalgia and relief, and everyone was enjoying themselves. Rather than take over a nightclub or restaurant, they had converted their film set to suit, which afforded everyone a bit more freedom to let loose.

"Another, m'Lady?" Matthew joked.

"Vodka and tonic with lime, Crawley," Mary ordered handing him her empty glass. "And be quick about it."

He frowned while the others laughed.

"Please, darling?" Mary chided him, smiling and kissing him quickly.

He huffed and reached for Anna's glass. "Another, Anna?"

"Thanks, Matthew," Anna replied, smiling and leaning into Alex.

"You good?" Matthew asked his friend.

"Yeah," Alex replied.

Matthew went off to get the drinks. Alex hugged Anna close and whispered in her ear. She laughed in response.

Mary smiled and looked out across the converted set. There was something so fitting about holding the wrap party here. She had become very well acquainted with Paris nightlife over the months she spent filming, but she preferred marking the end of this project where it all began. There would be time in the coming months to worry over whether this film would help her career at all, and whether her gambit to pursue these opportunities in Europe was a wise decision. For now, she was celebrating a job well done, and regardless of the scale of the movie, or the lack of prestige associated with it, she was proud of having made it through.

Her eyes wandered to a large table on the other side of the bar where Paul was holding court. Just as when they went to the after party of his friend's premiere that one time, the director sat like a King on a throne and crowds hovered about him hoping for a few precious seconds with him. She recognized many of the same faces from that night, or people they ran into during their dinners at Table du Lancaster. He gave each of them a benevolent smile and the usual cheek kisses, laughed politely at their jokes or raised his glass to them before sending them on their way.

She smiled as she watched him, so comfortable and at ease. He hadn't danced, hadn't left his seat all evening, she expected. Anyone who was important would come to him. There was no need for him to make any effort or take any initiative. It was quite impressive how he seemed to be going at his own pace, not needing anyone to enjoy himself. Her time with him was illuminating, a bit of an introduction to the French movie business, as well as the different way things were done here. The past few weeks, he had already spoken to her numerous times about their next film together, tentatively titled _Orelia_ , the name of her character, meaning 'gold'. Casting was well underway, and they were scheduled to begin filming in January. With _The Muse_ set to debut in March of next year, it would be a busy time for her, which she welcomed. If she wasn't working, she would have too much time to ponder her exile from Hollywood.

"Vodka and tonic, with lime," Matthew announced, coming back to her side and presenting her drink.

"Thank you," she smiled raising her glass to him and taking a sip. "Mmm. Come on. I want you to meet Paul."

Matthew glanced over and noticed Anna and Alex entirely engrossed with each other. Knowing they wouldn't be missed, he took Mary's hand and followed her through the crowd towards the other end of the bar.

When they arrived, there was a crowd gathered around the large circular table covered with food and wine glasses. Matthew noticed how everyone seemed to be focused on one man – a stout, older gentleman who looked to be in his early fifties, with wavy black hair that went down almost to his shoulders and an angular, hawkish nose. His eyes were a dark brown, and they seemed to flit back and forth, as though he was noticing everything around him at all times, even when someone was speaking to him.

Those eyes looked up and noticed Mary first. He smiled and waved her over to the empty seat next to his.

"Come on," Mary beamed, pulling Matthew along.

" _Marie_ , hello," Paul said warmly, standing up and taking hold of her arms. He kissed her on both cheeks and held out her chair for her to sit down.

Mary took her seat and looked back up at Matthew, who remained standing.

"Paul, this is Matthew," Mary introduced him.

"Ah, yes, _Mathieu_! Welcome, welcome!" Paul exclaimed, nodding to him. "Sit, sit."

Matthew nodded and took the seat next to Mary's. Due to the curve of the table, she was sitting closer to the director than she was to him.

A server automatically placed plates of hors d'oeuvres in front of each of them and offered wine. Matthew held up his hand to politely refuse. Mary and Paul got into a chat about the party and Paul's plans to complete the casting for their next film by December.

"Speaking of which, there is someone I want you to meet," Paul stated, glancing around the room. "Ah! Yes, yes."

He waved his hand and the crowd seemed to part for a young man to step forward. He was tall, though not as tall as Matthew, and his short hair was more brown than blond. His blue eyes were closer to green than Matthew's as well. He smiled upon arriving at the table, flashing perfect white teeth.

"James, this is _Marie_ ," Paul made the introductions, motioning towards Mary. "She will be playing Orlena. This is James Kent. He is my Théo."

"Please, it's Jimmy," James advised. He reached out and took Mary's hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it lightly. "Pleasure to meet you, Mary. I'm really looking forward to working with you."

"Thank you," Mary answered, nodding her head.

"James is young, thinks he knows more than he really does, and has much to learn," Paul explained to Mary. "But he fits the role very well, and his enthusiasm will be good for the part, no?"

Mary nodded, smiling up at Jimmy. "And how is your French?"

"It'll do," Jimmy replied. "I was born in Chichester, West Sussex, but I moved to Paris when I was five, so I'm more French than English, really."

"Thank you, James," Paul nodded, waving the young actor away.

Jimmy smiled in amusement and nodded to Mary before disappearing back into the crowd.

Matthew turned to Mary. "Théo is one of Orlena's lovers?"

She nodded. "The first one, the one she meets after her husband dies."

He nodded, trying to remember what he knew from the script about the character. The film followed Orlena's life through her relationships with three different lovers – Théo, the young one, Ludivine, a woman, and Florian, an older man. He agreed that Jimmy did fit his impression of Théo, someone young, athletic, handsome, and with a bit of a rugged look to him.

" _Mathieu_ , I must thank you," Paul declared, drawing his attention.

"Thank me?" Matthew questioned, glancing curiously at Mary. "What for, pray?"

"Thank you for keeping your distance," Paul answered. "I am very old fashioned. The film set is a sacred place for me. Here, I do not want any distractions – no partners, no families, no children. Just the actors, the crew, that's it. You did not come here once in the months that we were filming. You respect my space. I thank you for that."

Matthew nodded. "Well, I wasn't in Paris very much, anyway, but Mary likes to focus on work as well, so I just try and stay out of her way."

Mary laughed and took a sip of her drink.

Paul smiled at Matthew. "Exact. _Marie_ and I understand each other. I am pleased that you understand the situation as well. The next film, it will be more intense than this one. We are going to try and finish very quickly so that it can debut in the summer, maybe, fall at the latest. So, I am going to keep a closed set for the months that we are here. You already make my job easier."

"By staying away," Matthew noted.

"Exact," Paul nodded, easing back in his chair and resuming his conversation with Mary about the movie.

* * *

"We're going back home for a while before we go to London for Christmas," Anna advised, smiling at the thought. "I'll miss Paris, but we'll be back in January, and we're keeping the same apartment, so we won't need to move anything."

Edna smiled.

"What about you? Heading home for the holidays?" Anna asked.

Edna shook her head. "I wish. Paul's got me working straight through. I'll take a few days around Christmas, and it's not so bad. We don't really get super busy until filming starts up. This is all the prep work, not as many hours."

Anna nodded. "And what about 'he who shall not be named'? Has he left you alone?"

"Thank God, yes," Edna confirmed. "I don't think he knows that I warned you. Anyway, if he ever does get back in touch, I'll be sure to let you know. It's probably inevitable. He loves revisiting his old conquests, and sadly, that includes me."

Anna gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Anyway, I can deal with him. He's easy to resist when I'm not high. For his sake, I hope he's moved on from you. I wouldn't want to get on Alex's bad side, if I was him."

Anna laughed and nodded.

"All right, off you go," Edna encouraged her. "I told one of the supervisors that I'd save him a dance. Go on back to that husband of yours."

"Thanks. You enjoy yourself," Anna replied. "And try and give André a chance. He seems like a good bloke."

Edna scoffed and smiled.

Anna laughed and gave her a hug.

* * *

"You met Mr. Chaput?" Alex asked.

"I did," Matthew confirmed. "Hard to miss him. Everyone here is queuing up to receive his blessing, it seems."

Alex smirked and took another drink of his beer. Whenever Matthew was annoyed or frustrated, he frowned in such a way that his eyebrows arched at different angles. It was a look that Alex found rather amusing, and one that he easily recognized now.

"You're not worried about him getting so close to Mary, are you?" Alex asked.

Matthew scoffed. "No, not at all. I don't think he's that type of man. He doesn't chase after women. He prefers the control, being able to move people around like chess pieces on a board. I can't say he's unique in that way. Directors are all compulsive about control to a degree."

Alex nodded. "That's true. So you have nothing to worry about."

"I pity the man who would seek to control Lady Mary Crawley. The next one who achieves it will be the first," Matthew remarked, giving his best friend a wry smirk.

Alex laughed.

"Still, I shouldn't be complacent. He'll be spending more time with her over the next half a year than I will be. I'll need to be vigilant so she has no reason to doubt where she stands with me," Matthew noted.

"Do I even want to know what is involved in that?" Alex questioned suspiciously.

Matthew smiled and took a sip of his drink.

 **Tour Eiffel, Champ de Mars, Paris, France, November 18, 2017**

"God, Matthew, honestly! It's freezing!" Mary complained, holding tight to his arm.

"It's warmer than in Toronto, and you survived plenty of winters there," Matthew pointed out, smiling as he guided her along the deserted field. The area was usually busy with tourists, students and locals, but the authorities frowned on loitering past 1 a.m. and so there was hardly anyone about.

"Why are we out here? You've seen the Eiffel Tower before," she grumbled, her boots clicking on the pavement as she stomped along. "Every minute we spend outdoors is one less minute we could be doing far more enjoyable things back at the apartment, you know."

He laughed and shook his head. "It won't take long, darling."

She muttered to herself but kept in step, walking across the empty street and over to the towering French icon. It was closed, of course, and the light show had ended for the evening, too. It was still lit well enough by the surrounding lights and the cloudy sky above, but the atmosphere was hardly romantic. She rather felt as though they were in one of those apocalyptic films where they were the only two people left alive in the city after some catastrophic event.

"And stop," he ordered, coming to a halt and glancing up at the tower. He turned and looked along the river, then back out to the field in the other direction, getting his bearings. "Yes, this is it."

"This is what?" she whinged, frowning at his smiling face. "I'm too frozen to even kiss you right now, not that I even want to."

"You don't mean that," he teased. He took out his phone and fiddled with it.

She rolled her eyes and huddled closer to him, pressing her face against his shoulder. It really wasn't that cold. The wind was barely a bother and it wasn't raining either, but she was annoyed that they were out here so late. After the wrap party, she was looking forward to getting back to the penthouse and being with Matthew, so when the driver came to a surprising stop outside the Champ de Mars and advised that they had arrived, she became perturbed. Matthew knew how much she hated surprises.

She blinked when music began playing from his phone. He set it down on the ground, the sound still crystal clear with it being so quiet around them. Her eyebrow arched in suspicion when he held out his hands to her.

"You can't be serious," she protested. "Here?"

He smiled and nodded. "Here. Now."

She frowned.

"Please," he added, winking at her.

She shook her head and came into his hold, the familiar feel of being in his arms warmed her slightly, though she preferred dancing with him when they weren't wearing coats, scarves and gloves. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, allowing him to lead and turn her about. Dancing beneath the Eiffel Tower was rather romantic, she had to admit, but they could have done that any other day. She was still annoyed with him over this pointless interlude.

' _Lately you've been questioning if I still see you the same way. Cause through these trying years we gonna both physically change. Don't you know you'll always be the most beautiful woman I know? So let me reassure you, darling, that my feelings are truly unconditional…'_

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, smiling as his soft voice filled her ears, in perfect sync with the music.

"Oh Matthew," she laughed, shaking her head at his utter sappiness.

' _See I'll love you when your hair turns grey, girl, and I'll still want you when you gain a little weight, yeah. The way I feel for you will always be the same, just as long as your love don't change, no. I was meant for you and you were meant for me, yeah. And I'll make sure that I'll be everything you need, yeah. Girl the way we are is how it's gonna be, just as long as your love don't change…'_

She arched her eyebrow at the 'gaining weight' lyric, but smiled all the same. He had gone to the effort of bringing her here, and it was rather sweet, even if she could think of far better and warmer things they could be doing with their time.

He smiled at her and nodded his head to the side, causing her to look up.

She gasped.

The Eiffel Tower was lit up in red, white and blue, the glow seeming to surround them. She laughed and marveled at the sight, their position standing beneath the tower giving the scene a dreamlike sense, as if they were floating somehow. The light show changed to white, then began to flash, twinkling before her eyes like so many brilliant stars.

"Oh, darling!" she exclaimed, looking at his smug expression. "How did you do this?"

He chuckled. "I've met a few people during my stay here. Call it a favour from a friend in the union."

She shook her head in wonder, her heart beating faster and delightful flutters bubbling in her chest.

"You do know how to impress a girl, I'll give you that," she grinned.

"Still think a kiss would be out of the question?" he asked playfully.

She laughed, nodding her head in anticipation. "All right. You've convinced me."

They stopped dancing and he leaned in, his arms wrapping around her waist. She raised her hands to his chest and arched her back, tilting her head and closing her eyes. Their lips touched, lightly at first, then more firmly. She opened her mouth to accept his tongue, purring at the taste of him. The moment was so utterly cute that she even lifted her leg behind her while they kissed. Eventually he pulled back and she opened her eyes, grinning at him while he kept her in his embrace.

"I hope you don't mind, but I arranged for a photographer, well, an amateur one anyway, just to help us capture the moment," he advised.

She blinked and looked around. "Oh God!" she groaned, rolling her eyes when Anna came forward, her phone pointed at them.

"Traitor," Mary teased, leaving Matthew's hold and going over to hug her assistant. "You should be in bed with your husband, not out here in the cold with us!"

"He doesn't mind," Anna replied, glancing over her shoulder as Alex came up behind them. "Plus I got a fantastic shot that is sure to get all the hits online."

She turned the phone around. The photo of Mary and Matthew kissing was on the screen, the couple perfectly centered in the foreground, with the Eiffel Tower lit up above them, slightly blurred to give the shot a cinematic feel.

"That is quite good," Mary agreed.

"Besides, they aren't being entirely selfless," Matthew advised, joining them and glancing knowingly at Alex. "I was forced to agree to a _quid pro quo_ to gain their help."

Mary and Anna frowned at each other in confusion.

" _Quid pro quo_?" Anna asked, looking at Matthew in confusion.

"You didn't think I'd pass up this chance, did you?" Alex said smoothly, reaching out and taking his wife by the hips.

"What? Ah!" Anna exclaimed as her husband suddenly spun her around and dipped her, smirking in triumph before giving her a warm kiss.

Mary grinned and backed out of the way so that Matthew could get a clean shot with his phone camera.

Anna grabbed hold of Alex's shoulders to stop herself from falling. Once she was fairly confident he had a hold of her, she reached up and caressed his face, closed her eyes and kissed him back.

"All right, let's not get arrested for public indecency now," Matthew called out. "It's bad enough that we've lit up the Eiffel Tower outside of normal operating hours."

Anna laughed and pecked Alex on the lips before he raised her back up to her feet and they disentangled from each other.

"Well, that wasn't bad at all," she mumbled, checking to make sure her hair was still relatively in place.

"Go on, the both of you! Thank you so much, but the next time he tries to lure you into some scheme, say no, or at least warn me first!" Mary joked.

Anna laughed, hugged Mary and gave her a kiss on her cheek. Matthew slapped hands twice and tapped fists with Alex.

They all wished each other goodnight, and Matthew picked up his phone and escorted Mary back towards the waiting car.

"Worth the stopover?" he asked.

"Only just," she answered haughtily, though she smiled and hung on to him as they walked. "Now take me home and warm me up."

His face lit up. "Now that sounds dangerous."

"Oh it most certainly is," she nodded. "You've set the bar very high for yourself, Mr. Crawley. I'm going to expect you to keep making me see stars for the rest of the night."

"Challenge accepted," he chuckled, helping her into the car.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, November 23, 2017**

"A bit to the left, a bit more, a bit more, stop, stop, yeah, right there, perfect," Anna instructed, pointing at the roof.

"Yes, Mrs. Lewis," the worker replied, fastening the last of the string of lights in place and carefully walking back along the roof to ensure the rest of the lights were secured.

"Mrs. Lewis, the fir trees have arrived," another worker called.

Anna turned around and smiled as the gardeners brought the mini-Christmas trees up the driveway towards her.

"All right, with these, I want them on either side of the laneway, starting from the garage and over to the front porch. They're going to be just behind the ground lights so that when they're lit, it'll create this halo effect on each of them. Once they're planted, alternate red and white lights on each one, and you can run the cord behind and cover it with the mulch when they're all plugged in," she ordered.

"Very good, Mrs. Lewis," the worker replied, relaying her instructions to the rest of the gardeners.

Anna walked past them and made her way down the driveway to the street. She crossed to the kerb on the other side and turned around to look at her home, the holiday decorations all taking shape. She preferred a more traditional look rather than the massive inflatable Santas and cartoon characters that were popping up all over the city. Even though it wasn't quite December yet, the holiday season had already started. The Christmas Market in the Distillery District was up and running and there were already Santas set up in all the shopping malls. She was hosting the annual holiday party for Alex's law partners next week. Besides, they had so little time in the city before flying back to London that she wanted her house in the holiday spirit as soon as possible.

She took out her phone and took photos of the house, as well as a video. A smile curled her lips. Just a few months ago she had no idea if she was even going to see this place again, the thought of spending another Christmas with her husband seemed like a dream that she had shattered with her own folly. Now here she was, the mistress of the manor once more, presiding over her home for another holiday season, and she loved it.

Her face brightened even more when she heard the familiar growl of the Mercedes approaching. Moments later, Alex rounded the corner and pulled into the driveway. She crossed the street and met him in the garage.

"Hello, love," he smiled, kissing her when he got out of the car. "You've been busy."

"Well the house won't decorate itself," she teased, kissing him back. She took his hand and led him into the house. "The workers should be done in about an hour."

"Good. I had an interesting phone call today," he informed her.

"Oh? About what?" she asked, taking him into the kitchen and pouring two cups of hot chocolate from the pot warming on the stove.

"Mmm, thanks," he smiled, savouring the sweet drink. "I heard from one of my contacts in Montreal. It seems that _The Muse_ is going to be accepted into the festival there for August."

"In Montreal? Ah," she remarked, sipping her hot chocolate.

"You don't seem particularly pleased," he observed.

"No, no, that's great news. I just was hoping it would debut here at TIFF," she explained.

"That would be ideal, yeah, but keep in mind this is foreign film that most people haven't heard of. Mary's name gives it a bit of recognition, but it's mainly going in on Paul's reputation, particularly among the French community," he replied.

She nodded. "Well, it's something. People will see it and love it and hopefully a distribution deal follows."

"Hopefully. Anyway, I was quite pleased to hear about it going to Montreal, actually," he stated, coming over to her.

"You were, were you? And why is that?" she asked, smiling up at him.

"Well, Montreal is one of my favourite cities," he grinned.

"Hmm, have we ever been? I can't seem to recall," she teased.

He frowned. "What did you say?"

She smiled and bit her lower lip, slowly backing away from him. "It's a nice enough place, I suppose, but it's not the most memorable. I can't remember anything of note happening there."

"Not funny at all," he warned, stalking after her.

"Oh wait, now I remember! Didn't we see a Cirque du Soleil show there once?" she asked, her eyes full of mischief.

"You are in so much trouble!" he declared, chasing after her.

She yelped and took off for the stairs, laughing and shrieking as he closed the distance and spanked her.

"I proposed to you in Montreal and you better say you remember every second of it!" he roared, running up the stairs after her.

She reached the second floor first and spun around, grinning down at him. "Was that you? God, I can never keep you all straight."

"That's it!" he grunted, jumping up the remaining stairs.

She ran into the bedroom and squealed when he caught her from behind and jumped on to the bed with his arms firmly around her waist.

"All right! All right! I remember!" she cackled, laughing as he tickled her sides.

He flipped her over onto her back and kept tickling her, his hands slipping beneath her shirt and across her bare skin. "That was the most romantic trip of your entire life! Say it!"

"Of my entire life? I don't know about that. What about our honeymoon?" she replied, giggling as he eventually relented and stilled his hands.

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. Top 3 then."

"Top 5. We've taken a lot of trips, babes," she pointed out, grinning and reaching up to take hold of his shoulders.

"Top 5? Really?" he asked in disbelief.

She rubbed her foot along his leg. "You disagree?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

"Hmm, well we should talk this through, make sure we're on the same page," she said, pulling him down and kissing him.

He hummed in approval and kissed her back.

 **SUSHISAMBA, 38** **th** **Floor, Heron Tower, London, England, November 25, 2017**

Tony straightened his tie yet again, using the front-facing camera on his phone to check his appearance. Satisfied, he put his phone down and glanced out at the London skyline below. It was unfortunately too cold now to dine out on the patio. A shame, really. He would have enjoyed showing Mary the expansive view from so high up.

He smiled and looked over the menu once more. It would be quite a surprise when the executive chef came out to introduce the £1000 Kobe beef tasting. He didn't expect her to eat much of the Japanese delicacy, but she would be impressed, surely. It was all part of the purpose in choosing this restaurant. Magnificent views. Magnificent food. Magnificent sake and wine. She wouldn't be going home with him tonight, sadly, but he wanted to give her a glimpse into what life with him would be like.

Money alone would never gain Mary's attention. She had plenty of it herself. The lifestyle, though, was something that was always fleeting. Her career was flailing, that was a fact. His was solid. The brief spell on the West End drew rave reviews all summer. There were offers for television series and films back in the States waiting for him. Slowly he would plant the idea in her mind just how advantageous it would be for her to be at his side. He could revive her career. He could open doors that had been slammed in her face by Mabel's glorious scheme. He could bring back the lost fame and prestige which she craved so desperately. Slowly and carefully he would convince her. Whether it took two years, three, it didn't matter, so long as she chose him in the end.

He frowned at the idea of her and Matthew back together. An Armani model, a pretty face, that's all he was. Sure, his turn in _Shattered_ was well received, but it was a supporting part only. He didn't have star potential, and Mary would see that eventually, and when she did, her old friend Tony Foyle, Lord Gillingham, would be there, her shining knight come to rescue her.

"Sir, your guest has arrived."

Tony smiled and looked up, nodding to the host. His smile left him when he saw the tall, blond haired, blue-eyed man approaching his corner table.

"Matthew," he stammered, rising to his feet and extending his hand.

"Tony," Matthew replied, smiling and shaking his hand firmly. "Lovely restaurant. The view is absolutely breathtaking."

"Yes," Tony said slowly, barely hiding his frown as Matthew took a seat. "I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you."

"Ah, yes, well, when Mary mentioned to me that you were having dinner tonight, I thought to myself, 'well, I haven't seen Tony in a while' and so here I am, come to say hello," Matthew answered cheerfully, snapping his napkin open and spreading it across his lap.

"Well, hello," Tony said tightly.

"Hello," Matthew chuckled, picking up the menu. "Now, what's good here, hmm? Japanese, Brazilian and Peruvian fusion cuisine. Well! Don't see that every day, do you?"

Tony frowned and glanced around, wondering when Mary would arrive and explain what the hell was going on.

 **Home of Tony Foyle, Kensington, London, England, November 25, 2017**

"There is a guest at the door asking for you, Lady Mabel," the butler announced.

"A guest? Who is it?" Mabel asked, her eyes not leaving her tablet.

"Lady Mary Crawley, my Lady," the butler replied.

Mabel's head snapped up and looked at the butler in shock. "Mary's here?"

"Yes, my Lady," the butler repeated. "Shall I tell her that you're indisposed for the evening?"

"No, no, send her in," Mabel muttered, getting up from the sofa. She glanced around the room worriedly, wondering if anything looked particularly untidy. "Bring tea."

"Yes, my Lady," the butler complied, turning and leaving the room.

Mabel frowned and smoother over her skirt. What was Mary doing here? She was supposed to be having dinner with Tony.

"Lady Mary Crawley," the butler announced, gesturing for Mary to enter before bowing and taking his leave.

"Mary! What a wonderful surprise!" Mabel smiled, holding her arms out.

"Mabel," Mary answered, coming over, taking her hands and kissing her on both cheeks. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Never," Mabel tutted. "Please."

Mary nodded and took a seat on the sofa. Mabel did the same, keeping her distance. "What brings you by? I thought you were meeting Tony for dinner tonight."

"Yes, I was, but on my way to the restaurant, it occurred to me that we haven't had a proper catch-up since I've been back and what better time than tonight, when we know that Tony is out of the house?" Mary laughed.

"Oh, brilliant!" Mabel gushed, her mind racing. Why would Mary deliberately seek her out, and what did she have to tell her that required Tony not being here?

"Pardon me, my Lady. Tea," the butler called, coming into the room with a tray.

"Lovely, thank you. Mary? Milk and two sugars?" Mabel asked.

"Perfect," Mary nodded.

The two women watched as the butler prepared their cups, both of them readying themselves for the conversation to come.

 **SUSHISAMBA, 38** **th** **Floor, Heron Tower, London, England, November 25, 2017**

"Mmm, my, my, my. You know, I've never really been a sake connoisseur by any stretch, but this is quite good," Matthew nodded enthusiastically, licking his lips and setting his small cup back down.

Tony watched him, his annoyance growing as his appetite shrunk. "When did you say that Mary would be here?"

"I didn't," Matthew replied, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. "I expect that I will see her at some point. The night is young, after all."

Tony frowned. "Do you have any idea when she'll arrive, then?"

Matthew pondered the question for a moment. "No, not really. Could be any moment now."

"Or it could be much later?" Tony pressed.

"Could be," Matthew nodded.

Tony shook his head.

"Am I not an entertaining enough dinner companion, Tony?" Matthew joked.

Tony frowned. "No, it's not that. I was just expecting Mary, that's all. We have quite a bit to talk about."

"Ah, yes, I'm sure that you think you do. Well, the two of you can sort that out between yourselves. You and I, though, have a fair bit to discuss as well," Matthew advised.

Tony looked at him cautiously. "Do we?"

Matthew nodded. "Indeed we do. For example, I very much wanted to talk to you about your personal assistant, Mr. Green, is it?"

"Yes, that's him," Tony replied.

"Well, on the subject of Mr. Green, I have a bit of a favour to ask," Matthew informed him.

"A favour?" Tony questioned.

"A favour, yes," Matthew nodded.

"Excuse me, gentlemen. Shall we proceed with the Kobe programme?" the server asked politely.

"Yes, of course! Please!" Matthew smiled.

The server glanced over at Tony.

"Sure," Tony consented resignedly, waving his hand.

 **Home of Tony Foyle, Kensington, London, England, November 25, 2017**

" _Paladin_ premiered just two weeks ago and after tomorrow, almost a third of the fifth season will have been shown," Mary said, shaking her head. "It does make me rather wistful."

Mabel nodded and sipped her tea. "You are so good in it."

"Thank you. That's a very kind thing to say," Mary replied.

"Is it true that it's over? Tony seems to think so but has any official decision been made?" Mabel asked.

"Nothing official, but I think everyone has accepted that it's done," Mary sighed. "It's too bad. I thought that the storyline with Tony could have really gone places. Our chemistry was instantaneous, really, and the ratings for the early episodes have been quite strong. With time, it could have surpassed what I had with Henry."

Mabel smiled tightly. She had long ago accepted Tony's infatuation with Mary. It was part of their deal to have him help her in her scheme. That didn't mean she enjoyed listening to the woman rave about spending time with him.

"Anyway, it was a wonderful privilege to work on the show, but that's over with now," Mary finished.

Mabel nodded, taking satisfaction in that. "So what's next? Tony mentioned you were filming in France?"

"Yes. I made a film called _The Muse_ with the director Paul Chaput. You've heard of him, surely?" Mary stated.

"A little. I know the name," Mabel replied drily. "And do you have anything set for the New Year?"

Mary nodded. "Paul wants me for his next film. It's called _Orlena_ , about a woman's rather complicated life. We start shooting in January so I'm right back in it, really."

"Ah," Mabel nodded. "That's nice. It's good to be busy."

Inwardly, she was squealing with glee. Mary being relegated to two French films that would never amount to much thrilled her.

"Are you and Tony staying in the city for the holidays?" Mary asked, sipping her tea.

"We haven't discussed it, but I imagine so," Mabel replied. "His family holiday party is always one of the highlights of the Winter Season. I wouldn't mind getting away for a bit, but I don't have much time off, really. I'm performing straight through."

Mary nodded.

"And how are your parents?" Mabel asked.

"Well, thank you," Mary nodded. "Mum does so enjoy the holidays. It's a welcome distraction as well. It gives them both a chance to put all the unpleasantness of the summer behind them."

Mabel nodded sympathetically. "Surely all of that unfortunate business has been forgotten by now?"

Mary sighed. "One would think so, however some people have very long memories. I was quite disappointed in them when I found out, of course, but for someone to go in and steal such a private video and exploit it, well, there's no words, really, don't you agree?"

"Who's to say what motivates such a person?" Mabel mused.

"Indeed. One would hope that anyone with a grudge against my family would simply get over it and move on, rather than allow themselves to be consumed by it. But then, there are so many poorly adjusted people in the world. I expect a substandard upbringing would be to blame," Mary speculated.

Mabel frowned. "Anything is possible, I suppose."

"Can you imagine? Disliking someone, well, that happens for a myriad of reasons. However, holding so much hate in your heart for another person so as to want to go to such lengths to see them fall? Well, I would almost feel sorry for someone so petty and small," Mary continued. "Life is too short for wasting one's time on meaningless grudges."

"That's rather philosophical of you," Mabel said tersely.

"I didn't always feel that way," Mary chuckled. "Matthew has been a horrible influence that way. I feel I'm far more nicer and level-headed thanks to him. Whether that's because I am, or that's the person I am when I'm with him, I'm not quite sure, but there you have it."

"How wonderful," Mabel noted.

Mary nodded and put her tea cup down. "It's thanks to him that I've chosen to forgive you, Mabel."

Mabel blinked and looked up at Mary. "Forgive me? For what?"

Mary's eyes narrowed. "For having Tony's deplorable P.A. track down my parents' video and steal it for you, for your leaking the video to The Guardian and feeding them a sensationalized story about my father's financial dealings that were in fact all entirely above board, as well as a supposed affair that was far from that, for timing everything to occur when my movie premiered so that the damage would be immediate and irreversible, and for forcing me to have to leave America and go to France to work after I lost all the Hollywood opportunities that I had worked so very hard to earn."

Mabel shuddered slightly, then raised her chin and pursed her lips. "You're forgetting arranging for and releasing Henry's video. That was the first coup."

Mary nodded. "I suspected that was you as well. Well played."

Mabel smiled. "It wasn't so difficult, really. Once I chose to focus on the men around you rather than trying to find a secret of your own, everything came easily. Men in positions of power are so weak and easily found out when their vices are discovered. Of course, you made it oh so easy by aligning yourself with them. So typical of you. It's a shame that I wasn't aware of your relationship with Matthew earlier. Who knows what dirty tidbits he's got hidden away?"

"Oh, there's plenty," Mary confirmed. "He's turned me into quite the exhibitionist. I should send you a clip. Perhaps it would give you and Tony some pointers."

Mabel laughed derisively. "You think yourself so superior. That's fine. I never expected you to grovel, at least not publically. Seeing the look on your face at the _Shattered_ premiere when your aunt told you that you had to leave immediately and abandon your moment of glory, well, that was ample reward enough. The rest of it has been just icing on the cake, and there's really no end in sight, is there? France today, where tomorrow? Ukraine, perhaps?"

Mary huffed, her blood boiling.

"Do you know how it feels, Mary, to see you receive your long overdue comeuppance? There are no words, really," Mabel twisted the knife further.

"You must think it's funny in a way," Mary noted.

Mabel nodded. "Oh, yes, I do. Very much so."

"I expected as much, though honestly I can't see how it could be nearly as funny as when I watched the video of you bending over for that disgusting producer on _Paladin_ so many years ago," Mary retorted.

Mabel gasped in shock.

Mary smiled slowly. "Falling for one of the oldest tricks in the book, my dear, really? But then again, you were always so foolishly competitive. Anything that I did, you just had to try and copy. 'Mary let me fuck her during her audition', he said, and just like that, your knickers came off."

"It was quite believable that you would spread your legs to win a part," Mabel shot back.

Mary laughed. "Oh, but I didn't. I was never even asked to, because they knew well enough that I never would. You gave it up because of a lie, and didn't even win the part. How disappointing."

Mabel blinked and swallowed shakily.

Mary arched her eyebrow. "But perhaps that isn't the worst of it. Perhaps what has been truly unbearable for you, what has driven this ludicrous madness of yours for all these years, is the thought that I did sleep my way to the role of Jade. Maybe what enrages you so much is that you believed that producer fucked both of us, and still ended up giving me the part over you."

Mabel frowned and grit her teeth.

Mary leaned towards her. "That's it, isn't it? Not only do you know deep down that you're not nearly the actress that I am, but you're nowhere near the woman I am, either. Tell me, dear Mabel, how many times has Tony called my name while fucking you? We both know he thinks of me when he's grunting and groaning away on top of you, don't we? How often has he said it out loud though?"

"You fucking bitch," Mabel sneered.

"Oh no," Mary shook her head, smiling wickedly. "A real bitch would destroy you. A real bitch would release your horrid amateur video so everyone across the world would see what you haven't got. A real bitch would spread gossip about what you did and make sure you ended up shooting commercials in Russia for the rest of your pathetic career."

Mabel shivered and recoiled slightly.

"Sadly, I won't be doing any of those things," Mary complained. "I would in a second, without hesitation, but Matthew would hate me for it, to say nothing for what my sisters and others would think. As sweet as the revenge would be, it's not nearly worth risking all that, not for you."

Mabel blinked. "After everything you've done, you still have the nerve to sound magnanimous!"

"For God's sake, Mabel!" Mary snapped. "Do you hear yourself? You've won, all right? Happy? My career is far worse off now than it was, all thanks to your bloody scheme. I've agonized over what's happened, and it still hurts deeply to this very day, so if that was what you were after, kudos."

Mabel managed a wavering smile.

"And yet, where are all the offers, the studios beating down your door now that you've removed me as a rival?" Mary demanded. "Where are the big budget films that you'll be starring in now that Mary Crawley is no longer standing in your way?"

Mabel's lip quivered.

Mary shook her head. "Here's a lesson for you, one that I learned ages ago, and was reminded of thanks to your meddling. There's always someone else. There's always someone to compete with, someone younger, prettier, smarter, someone who speaks eight languages in twenty different accents, does her own stunts and is trained in everything from horseback riding to rhythmic gymnastics. Someone who has no qualms about doing nudity on screen, chopping off her hair for a role or taking half the pay of her male co-star. All of this effort you've devoted to bringing me down, to say nothing for the spite you've carried for years, what has it gotten you, truly? So I beat you for a few roles. That's hardly something that you couldn't overcome on your own merit. Do you see me scheming against Jennifer Lawrence, or Rosamund Pike, or any of the women who have beaten me for a role?"

"I highly doubt any of them have treated you the way that you've treated me over the years!" Mabel bit back.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Someday, you'll really need to get past all that nonsense. It makes you sound so angry. Good luck to you, Mabel. I truly hope that you've gotten some happiness out of seeing me suffer, and when you have to watch me rise again, I hope you'll still think it's all been worth it."

Mabel laughed as Mary rose from the sofa. "Rise again? You're finished. And from what I hear about Matthew's burgeoning career, he'll drop you soon enough."

"I highly doubt it," Mary stated. "But if he were to leave me, I could always wag my finger and Tony would come running, wouldn't he?"

"You bitch! Get out of my house!" Mabel shouted, rising to her feet.

Mary laughed and walked away, not waiting for the butler to see her out. When she reached the waiting car, she ordered the driver to take her to Heron Tower. Evening London crawled by her window, and she grit her teeth to stop herself from crying.

 **SUSHISAMBA, 38** **th** **Floor, Heron Tower, London, England, November 25, 2017**

Tony frowned, his Kobe beef sitting untouched on his plate. Blinking several times, he finally looked back up at Matthew.

"You can appreciate that I'd rather Mr. Green stay away from all of us – from Mary and her assistant, and from everyone in her circle, for that matter," Matthew repeated.

Tony nodded slowly. "Of course. I had no idea that he was such a scoundrel."

Matthew scoffed, which drew Tony's attention. "Please, Tony. Let's just cut the bullshit, shall we?"

Tony's mouth fell open. "I beg your pardon?"

"You knew," Matthew stated, glaring at him across the table. "You knew what Mr. Green was capable of. You spent months in Toronto filming. You must have known about his interest in Anna, a married woman, and I'm willing to bet that you were well aware of his drug use. I can't imagine that he would have gone to Paris without informing you first. Maybe he didn't share the precise details of his plans with you, but you chose to be wilfully blind to the monster in your employ. So, you're going to take some responsibility now, and make sure that he doesn't bother us, or anyone else, ever again."

"I don't know where you invented this fallacy, Matthew, but I assure you…" Tony sputtered.

"He tried to blame you," Matthew interrupted him. "When we confronted him, he was all too keen to say you put him up to it."

"Me?" Tony questioned. "Why would I put him up to seducing Mary's assistant?"

"No, not that," Matthew clarified. "He said you ordered him to hack into Robert's computer network and steal the video of him and Jane Moorsum."

Tony's eyes bulged. "What?"

"I'm quite sure you heard me," Matthew snarled. "Mabel orchestrated an elaborate scheme to get back at Mary for all of the imagined slights she'd absorbed over the years, and you helped her. Your assistant did the dirty work, and you helped Mabel release the video to The Guardian at the precise moment that it would have the most powerful effect."

"I would never do anything to hurt Mary!" Tony proclaimed strongly.

"I always thought so, too," Matthew agreed. "But the more I thought about it, the more brilliant it became. You've always wanted Mary, even when she was with me years ago. Your problem was that you were never on the same level, and she knew that, even if she never told you. She's far more clever than you are, and her ambition far outweighs yours. She was never going to give you a chance, even if she was single. But if the circumstances changed, if somehow you surpassed her, if she reached a point where she would benefit from being with you, then that would be a game changer. That's why you went along with it. That's why you helped Mabel plot her revenge, because you were banking on being there to pick up the pieces, to bind Mary to you at long last. For people who think you aren't very smart, Tony, it was actually quite genius."

Tony scowled. "You don't deserve her."

Matthew laughed and shook his head. "You're probably right. Maybe in time, this second attempt of ours would have failed and Mary would be available to you again. But now that she knows what Mabel did, and your role in all of it, that small, minute, infinitesimal chance you probably never had with her, is gone for good."

Tony breathed heavily and stared down at the table.

"Good evening, Tony. Thank you for the meal. It was delicious. Oh, I almost forgot. Mary wants you to lose her number," Matthew stated. He stood up, tossed his napkin on the table and left the restaurant.

Tony almost launched his glass across the room after him. As it was, he impatiently waved for the bill and threw his credit card at the server.

Matthew gripped the rail of the elevator tightly as it sped down to the ground floor. He walked briskly from the building and stepped quickly into the waiting car.

"It's done," he stated as the driver pulled away from the kerb. "I made it so he likely won't bother you again for quite some time."

Mary nodded. "I don't think I'll be hearing from Mabel for a while, either."

Matthew stared out the window, his lips pursed in thought.

Mary swallowed and slowly reached over for his hand.

Without looking at her, he clasped her fingers in his and didn't let go until they returned to Painswick House.

 **Waiting Room, Labour Ward, St. Mary's Hospital, Westminster, London, England, November 30, 2017**

"This is ridiculous. There's honestly no need for all of us to be here," Mary grumbled, sipping her tea from her travel mug. "It could be hours yet."

"It's Sybil we're talking about," Edith replied from her chair facing her sister. "I bet it takes her four hours or less. She probably gave herself the epidural before they even came here."

Matthew and Bertie shared a knowing smile and said nothing.

"Let's just be thankful that she's having the baby here, rather than in New York," Robert stated.

"Or Ireland, right, Dad?" Mary teased.

"Bite your tongue, my dear girl," Robert warned.

Edith grinned.

"I'm glad that she's here, but I wouldn't have minded if she'd stayed in New York. Mama would have been there," Cora noted.

"So we've lucked out many times over," Robert commented.

"Robert!" Cora frowned, slapping him on the arm.

He chuckled and shook his head. "I'm sorry, my darling. It's 4 a.m. and I'm afraid I'm saying things without thinking."

"That not to say he's saying anything he doesn't mean, though," Mary remarked.

Cora rolled her eyes.

"What was the name they decided on in the end?" Matthew asked.

"Emily Caitlín Branson. They'll call her Emma, or Emmy for short," Mary replied.

"The first Emily in the family," Cora smiled proudly.

"And they're spelling Caitlín the Gaellic way, with the accent on the second 'i'," Edith advised.

"So it's not pronounced Kate-lynn, but Kot-leen, the Irish way, yes?" Matthew asked.

"That's right," Mary nodded.

"Oh God in Heaven," Robert whinged, shaking his head.

"Robert!" Cora scolded him.

"Do you know how many times she'll need to correct people on the pronunciation of her middle name? It'll happen in school constantly. Tom just wants to make her life all the more difficult so he can explain how the English ruined Irish name pronunciation centuries ago," Robert muttered.

Mary and Edith laughed along with Matthew and Bertie.

* * *

An hour later, the doctor came out to see them. Robert sprang to his feet and stepped forward. When they were informed that Sybil had given birth to a healthy baby girl, everyone smiled and cheered, albeit in a reserved and polite manner. It was agreed that Cora and the girls should go in first, and they quickly departed.

"Hi!" Edith exclaimed when they arrived at Sybil's private room.

Sybil looked exhausted, and her hair was tied back in a ponytail, but she smiled widely, holding her swaddled daughter in her arms.

"Emma, your aunt Edith and aunt Mary are here, as well as your Granny Cora," Sybil cooed to the sleeping baby.

Tom smiled and slipped out of the room to go and join the men, while the ladies gathered around the bed.

"Oh you are the most beautiful princess in the entire world, yes you are!" Cora sobbed, holding her first grandchild lovingly and walking around the room. "Well done, Sybil, my darling. So very well done!"

"Yes, I've done my duty now, and never again!" Sybil declared sleepily, slumping back against the pillow.

"You don't mean that," Mary chided her.

"Besides, I doubt Tom would agree to it," Edith laughed.

"God, he wants to get started on the next one straight away," Sybil slurred. "I'm going to have the doctor tell him he can't touch me for six months."

Mary and Edith cringed and shook their heads.

"Is everyone outside?" Sybil asked, yawning and covering her mouth.

"Matthew and Bertie are with Dad. Tom's sister is coming in a few hours. She has to wait for the nanny to arrive at 7," Mary informed her.

"Right, yeah. Tom already texted photos to her and the rest of the family. I look a fright in them" Sybil mumbled.

"You look beautiful. Now get some sleep before the next wave comes in," Mary advised, leaning over and kissing her sister on the forehead.

"You all right, Mum?" Edith asked.

"Fine, fine," Cora nodded, continuing to sing to Emily.

"We'll be right back with some food for you," Edith said, squeezing Sybil's hand.

"Mmm, thanks. I'm starving," Sybil replied, closing her eyes.

Mary and Edith smiled and left the room.

* * *

"The options here are probably quite limited, but what else is open at this hour?" Edith asked.

"Nothing," Mary sighed. "We really should have gotten something last night, but who knew she was going to go into labour after midnight? I thought we'd have at least another day."

"Well at least she got through it," Edith noted.

"Yes, now she only has 20 years of misery awaiting her," Mary joked.

"You don't mean that," Edith stated.

"No, I don't," Mary admitted. "Besides, I have to remain optimistic about it all seeing as you're next."

Edith giggled and shook her head.

"Don't think I'm not well aware that you and Bertie are already trying. I'm surprised it didn't happen in Asia on the honeymoon," Mary teased.

Edith blushed. "It wasn't for lack of effort."

The sisters laughed as they came back into the waiting room, where the men were standing around Tom.

"Sybil's resting. Mum is holding Emily," Edith informed him.

"We just were going to get Sybil some food, if we can find anything besides vending machine sandwiches," Mary noted.

Tom excused himself to get back to his family. Matthew took out his phone.

"What can we get her besides pizza?" Mary asked.

"Well, there goes my idea," Matthew shrugged.

Bertie chuckled.

"Seriously, Matthew," Mary frowned.

Matthew smiled and put his phone away. "Don't worry, darling. We already took care of it."

Edith looked at them curiously. "You did?"

"Matthew ordered Chinese for her, though not her favourite dishes, I'm afraid," Bertie said.

"Lean beef, brown rice, greens, a bit of pineapple, I told them to just throw it all together and bring it over," Matthew confirmed. "It'll be fried, but that can't really be helped. Anyway, she can start eating properly when she gets home."

"Speaking of which, we ought to go and wait for the delivery boy. We told him to meet us at the kerb," Bertie said.

"I'll go. Dad, why don't you go on in?" Edith suggested.

Robert smiled and nodded and headed off to meet his granddaughter.

Bertie took Edith's hand and headed off to pick up the food.

"Come straight back with the food, you two," Mary called. "No dallying."

Edith shot her a warning glare.

"What was that about?" Matthew asked.

"Oh, nothing. Just keeping those two in line, you know," Mary answered with a smirk.

He smiled and shook his head.

"Goodness, you're rather interested in Sybil's welfare," she joked, turning and coming into his arms.

"She's very dear to me, you know that," he replied. "Besides, who knows how often we'll get to see them after they go back to New York? Better to spoil the three of them now."

"We'll still have our video chats, but yes, you're right. It looks as though we'll be stuck in Europe for the foreseeable future," she mumbled.

"So long as you're working, that's all that matters," he encouraged her.

"And what about you?" she asked, smiling up at him as his hands circled her waist. "Made any decisions for the New Year?"

"Are you kicking me out already?" he smirked.

"No, I'm quite happy to have you in Paris for six months, but I know you. You won't be happy just sitting around," she advised.

"You're probably right. I don't know. I might take some time to work on my script," he mused.

"God, that again," she shook her head.

"Hey, you never know. Even the greatest writers and producers had to start with a script," he retorted.

"I suppose. Though if I were you, I'd be looking for another film, a real one," she stated.

"I will. I'm going to enjoy the holidays first. In January I will get back to work, in whatever form that may take," he nodded.

"That's good enough for me," she answered, smiling before he pulled her closer and kissed her.

* * *

 **Song Credits:**

 **dontchange -** Musiq Soulchild, (2002), Def Soul


	19. Chapter 19

**Previously:**

 **Waiting Room, Labour Ward, St. Mary's Hospital, Westminster, London, England, November 30, 2017**

"And what about you?" she asked, smiling up at him as his hands circled her waist. "Made any decisions for the New Year?"

"Are you kicking me out already?" he smirked.

"No, I'm quite happy to have you in Paris for six months, but I know you. You won't be happy just sitting around," she advised.

"You're probably right. I don't know. I might take some time to work on my script," he mused.

"God, that again," she shook her head.

"Hey, you never know. Even the greatest writers and producers had to start with a script," he retorted.

"I suppose. Though if I were you, I'd be looking for another film, a real one," she stated.

"I will. I'm going to enjoy the holidays first. In January I will get back to work, in whatever form that may take," he nodded.

"That's good enough for me," she answered, smiling before he pulled her closer and kissed her.

 **Chapter 19:**

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, December 8, 2017**

Anna cheered as she clinked glasses with some of the other wives. They all took a long sip of champagne and laughed while the music played in the background. The annual partners' holiday party was into its usual late evening revelry, the guests having moved to the large living room for after-dinner drinks and conversation.

The party rotated each year amongst the different partners' homes, though Anna and Alex's house was one of the larger ones. The usual forty people attended – twenty-five men and fifteen women – being the senior partners of Alex's law firm, the partners from his corporate commercial department, and the spouses of those who were married. They had stopped having the firm-wide holiday party years ago to cut costs, and now staged smaller department parties instead. This one, though, was for the partners only, with no associates or staff allowed. It was safer that way for all involved. Everyone in the room had a vested interest in ensuring nothing scandalous happened, or if it did, that it wasn't broadcast across social media. There was usually a formal photo taken very early in the evening and put up on the firm's Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn accounts and so on, and that was it. All of the catering staff were required to sign non-disclosure agreements in advance ever since a rather embarrassing incident years ago involving the managing partner, one of the waitresses, and a $2,500.00 bottle of Louis XIII.

She looked around the large room, making sure everyone was enjoying themselves. Alex ran his practice mainly on his own, his area of expertise so specialized that he seldom needed support from anyone else besides Mrs. Chen, his law clerk. If he truly wanted to, he could have gone out on his own and set up a solo operation, but the firm gave him the flexibility and autonomy he wanted, so he stayed. He didn't have any real friends amongst the partnership, but Anna still took hosting the party seriously. It was important to her that everyone had a good time, and she secretly loved it when Alex told her of all the compliments he received the following day at the office.

Tonight she thought she'd really outdone herself. The house looked spectacular, for one, and more importantly, dinner had been superb. The catering staff ensured that the courses were served with military precision, that every detail was provided for, and especially that the drinks kept flowing. It was the one night of the year where her dining table was full of millionaires, and impressing them was no easy feat.

Alex hated board games and the like, so it was always a challenge to come up with something for everyone to do after dinner, besides sit around and get even more drunk. She came up with a rather novel idea and set up a mini escape room competition, dividing everyone into teams and locking them in the family room that she had a company convert with the necessary furniture, clues, and cameras for the rest of them to watch the hijinks unfold. She set a short time limit of twenty minutes per team so they wouldn't be stuck for hours, and everyone had a great time. Alex's team ended up winning, much to the boos and jeers of the other guests. Now with everyone enjoying drinks and unwinding, she felt she could relax a little.

"Anna, that dress is absolutely gorgeous," one of the wives exclaimed.

Anna smiled. The partners were generally older than Alex, and some of them had rather conservative tastes. Their wives could be particularly judgemental, and as the youngest of the women here, she had to be cautious in her wardrobe choices.

She had chosen a blue short-sleeved, high-collared bandage dress that went down to mid-calf. It was rather form-fitting, but still appropriately reserved. No cutouts. No bare shoulders. No cleavage. No leg slits.

"Thank you," Anna acknowledged. "I got it when we were over in Paris."

"Ah yes. I heard you're going back, right?" another woman asked.

Anna nodded. "Mary's starting work on her next film in January, so I'll be there through May. We really appreciate the firm letting Alex work from France. I don't know what I'd do without him. His French is so much better than mine."

She laughed along with the others. Mary had taught her the art of socializing at these types of smaller gatherings, where she couldn't just hang out on the periphery and avoid conversation. It wasn't as if Alex really needed the firm's permission to go to Paris with her, but it was important to appear humble to the other partners, and everything she said to their wives would get back to them.

"Mary looked amazing at the Emmys. Are you going to the Golden Globes?" another woman asked.

"Nominations come out next week, so fingers crossed," Anna answered. "The Globes are sort of different though. They don't usually have all the same nominees as the Emmys, so we'll have to see."

"Awards season always seems so glamourous, but it must be a huge production," another woman noted.

"It is, yeah, for the actors," Anna confirmed. "There's so much that goes into choosing their clothes, their shoes, their jewellery, you're running around from one event to another. I don't have to worry about what I'm wearing, but for Mary there's always so much riding on her choices because she gets critiqued so closely when she's on the red carpet. The Globes are one of the more fun ones, though. Everyone just gets absolutely smashed."

They all laughed knowingly.

She looked past her circle and across the room. Alex was standing against the wall, listening to two of the older partners regaling him with some story that was obviously boring him. His eyes met hers and he gave her a slow smirk. Her pulse jumped at his playfulness. They were supposed to be entertaining their guests, not flirting with each other across the room! She turned back to the conversation before her, but she could feel his eyes, his lingering gaze.

Swallowing slightly, she smiled and nodded politely, pretending to follow the conversation. Taking a quick breath, she dared to look back across the room. He was standing in the same spot, his smile now flashing his teeth in her direction.

Game on.

Holding his gaze, she brought the champagne flute to her lips and delicately licked the rim before taking a sip, warmth spreading through her chest when she saw him blink in surprise. Turning away, she went back to listening to the other wives, smiling at the thought of him impatiently waiting for her to turn back.

Eventually, she did.

He smiled wryly and quirked his eyebrows. _I'm bored_.

She nodded her head. _Don't look at me. These are your partners._

He nodded his head towards the foyer. _Let's go upstairs._

She frowned and shook her head. _No! We have guests!_

He smiled and shrugged. _So? That's never stopped us before._

She bit her lower lip and escaped back to her circle of wives. This was so typical of him. When the party was in its planning stages, he was always full of ideas. Once the evening was actually underway, though, he quickly grew disinterested. The moment he determined that the evening was a success, his mind wandered to other pursuits that he found far more enjoyable.

It was comical that she had to be the responsible one tonight.

"Any gossip that you can share, Anna?" a woman asked her breathlessly.

Anna smiled and shook her head. "I actually don't talk to anyone very famous. I usually deal with their assistants and publicists."

"You must have heard something, though!" they pressed.

Anna laughed and glanced across the room. A frown furrowed her brow for a second when she saw Alex was no longer standing in his former place.

"I'm afraid I don't have nearly as exciting a life as some would think," Anna answered, smiling apologetically at all of them. "And any rumours that I hear are usually all over the internet eventually, anyway. There's a few things that we find out about, but we keep that amongst ourselves."

"Enjoying yourselves, ladies?"

Anna gasped quietly, a warm hand ghosting across her bottom and coming to rest on her back.

"It's been wonderful, Alex, really," the other wives gushed. "You always outdo yourselves."

"Well, I have my wife to thank for that," Alex replied smoothly, smiling down at her. "If it was left to me, we'd be having burnt chicken fingers and soggy fries, or something."

They all laughed at that.

"Love, I told Roger that I'd show him my autographed Ronaldo jersey. I can't remember where I put it upstairs. Can you come up and help me find it?" he asked innocently.

"It's in your study. You brought it down last week, remember?" she replied sweetly. "One of the waiters can go and fetch it for you, if you want. I'm sure they would know what it looks like."

He frowned for a moment, glaring at her pointedly.

She smiled back at him.

"Uh…great. Yeah, now I remember," he muttered. "I'll just go and grab it. Thanks. Ladies."

He nodded to them all before poking Anna's back in protest and walking away.

"Roger is so jealous of Alex's memorabilia collection," Roger's wife laughed. "I won't even let him watch the games on television, so whenever Alex tells him about different matches he's been to in Spain, it makes him so mad!"

Anna smiled in understanding, imagining just how annoyed her husband must be at the moment. He really needed to control himself. Not only was it poor form for both hosts to disappear at the same time, but she was quite paranoid that if she did go upstairs with him, she wouldn't be able to be nearly as quiet as discretion required. He would just have to wait until their guests left. Given how voracious he would be by then, it might turn out better that way, she thought mischievously.

* * *

"Bloody hell," Anna mumbled to herself, her frustration mounting. She had come into the pantry to grab a cookbook to show one of the other wives, and now she couldn't find it. Over the years, they had accumulated quite the collection, covering British, Italian, Spanish, Chinese, Vietnamese, and Japanese cuisine, but the problem with that was she had to sift through thirty different volumes to find the one she wanted.

"Where is it?" she complained, moving her hand back to the beginning of the row of books and starting again.

"Can I help?"

She yelped and spun around, her hand going to her chest as she caught her breath.

"Harvey!" she exclaimed, looking at one of Alex's partners standing in the doorway. "You made me jump!"

"Sorry," he apologized, smiling at her. "Just wondering if you needed a hand."

"No, that's all right, thanks," she replied. "I'm just looking for this cookbook for Sheila, but I can't seem to find it. I know it's here."

"One of these?" he asked, coming over to her. He pointed to the shelf.

"Yeah, it's this book about tapas," she explained, looking up at the shelf.

"Hmm, tapas," he muttered. He leaned forward and looked over the different cookbooks.

She frowned when she felt his hand on her hip. He wasn't as tall as Alex, but still taller than her, and in the small space, she didn't have much room to shift away from him.

"Tapas, tapas," he repeated, pretending to look closer. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, and his fingers on her hip rubbed small circles against her dress.

"It's okay. We must have put it somewhere else," she said quickly.

"No, no, hold on, I'll find it, don't worry," he assured her, his other hand patting her shoulder and staying there.

"I should get back," she mumbled, her pulse racing.

"Just a little longer," he replied, leaning his head down. She could feel his breath on her cheek. "You've been such a good little hostess. I want to do something real nice for you."

She swallowed and turned her head, looking up at his smiling face.

"Let me show you just how much I appreciate all that you do, Anna," he offered, pulling her back against him, his lips parting.

"I…" she stammered, her eyes wide.

"Anna."

She blinked in shock and turned around.

Harvey stepped away from her.

"Did you find the cookbook for Sheila?" Alex asked, standing in the doorway and looking at her closely.

She shook her head, feeling her face flush. "I thought it was here but I can't find it."

Alex nodded and looked over at Harvey. "Harvey, I think Roger wanted to talk to you. Something about the Christmas bonuses."

Harvey nodded. "Thanks. Um, see you Anna."

He left the pantry, leaving Alex and Anna facing each other.

"Babes…" she began.

"Tell Sheila that we'll find it later and I'll get it to her sometime next week," he instructed.

She nodded. "Okay."

"Some of the guys wanted to play poker. We'll be in the games room," he stated curtly.

"Okay," she acknowledged shakily.

He looked at her for a moment, as though he wanted to say something, before turning around and walking away.

She covered her mouth and closed her eyes, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Taking a deep breath, she left the pantry and headed back to the living room.

* * *

Anna brushed her hair, biting her lower lip nervously. She had seen the last of the wives leave a half hour ago, a convoy of Uber SUVs hired to make sure everyone got home safely. Alex was finishing up his card game with three of the partners who were single, including Harvey. Not wanting to sit around watching them, she had gone upstairs and gotten ready for bed. She hoped he would be up before she fell asleep.

She put her hairbrush down and got up from her vanity, sighing on her way to the sink to brush her teeth. Her mind relived the horrible scene in the pantry when Alex caught her with Harvey pressed against her and his hands upon her. She hated imagining what it must have looked like from his perspective. Harvey was from the older generation of male lawyers, the ones who benefitted from the old boys' network and the glass ceiling. He still called his law clerk 'my girl' and he became quite touchy-feely when he was drunk. Everyone tolerated his antics at these parties, but she had never been trapped alone with him before. He was nearly forty years her senior, which probably fueled whatever sick ideas he had about her.

She didn't really care about Harvey right now. What Alex must be thinking was of far more concern.

She finished brushing and rinsed her mouth, staring at her worried reflection in the mirror. If their roles were reversed, would she believe Alex if he said he had nothing to do with another woman coming on to him? Would she give him the benefit of the doubt after all the calamity of what happened in Paris?

"That was fun."

She blinked and looked over cautiously when he came into the bathroom, watched as he went over to his sink and grabbed his toothbrush.

"Everyone seemed to have a good time," she echoed, playing with the sash of her robe.

"Good thing it's Friday night. Everyone will need tomorrow to recover," he noted, his mouth full of toothpaste.

"No doubt they think it's worth it," she replied, looking down at the counter.

He spat into the sink and rinsed his mouth. "It's a night for everyone to let loose."

She looked up at him, swallowing at his pointed stare.

"Babes, about before…" she mumbled.

"Yeah?" he nodded.

"It wasn't…I didn't…Harvey, he was drunk and he must have seen I was alone, but I never…" she struggled.

"I had a talk with Harvey," he interrupted. "I told him that I didn't appreciate him putting his hands on my wife. He apologized."

"You did? He did?" she babbled in surprise.

He nodded. "He was drunk when he apologized, so he'll most likely pretend that none of it ever happened, but I don't think he'll try anything next year, at least now with you, anyway."

"Oh," she nodded and sighed in relief.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," he continued. "I'm not excusing Harvey at all, but you know how he is. Hopefully he'll retire soon and we'll be rid of him. Until then, we unfortunately have to tolerate that he's a walking sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen."

She shook her head and took a step towards him. "No, no, I don't care about him. I was just afraid about what you might have thought."

He frowned. "What else would I have thought?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well, you saw him holding me, and I wasn't pushing him away. I wouldn't have blamed you for assuming that maybe I might have led him on or something."

He blinked and stared at her. After a moment, he smiled, then laughed incredulously. "You and Harvey? Love, he's over twice your age!"

She scoffed. "I know, but after what happened in Paris, I…"

He laughed and shook his head. "Hey, look at me."

She swallowed and looked up at him.

He reached out and took her hands. "All of that is in the past. You're my wife. We don't have any chance at all if we don't trust each other. I know that you wouldn't cheat on me, especially not with Harvey. If you did, I'd almost feel sorry for you, actually. When I saw you in the pantry with him, my first impulse was to grab him and throw him across the kitchen, and if his hands had been anywhere else, I probably would have. I never thought that you were consenting to it. He saw you wearing your dress and he lost it. It was reprehensible, and all his fault."

She squeezed his hands. "Thank you. I've been freaking out all night thinking you'd be furious with me. Everything was going so well and I thought I'd ruined it all."

"Love, come on," he needled her and pulled her into his arms. "Tonight was great. You did an amazing job, as usual. Everything was perfect, except for when you refused to come upstairs with me."

She laughed and hugged him tight. "I should have. That would have shown everyone that I'm yours and no one else's."

He smiled and kissed her cheek. "Well Roger is hosting next year, and he does have that large sectional in the basement…"

"Give me enough drinks and you might just have your way, Mr. Lewis," she giggled. "Now I'm sorry that I already changed. If I had known how much you liked my dress, I would have kept it on so you could take it off me."

He put his arm around her shoulders and led her back to the bedroom. "I think I prefer the robe. I'm pretty hammered right now, so zippers and buttons could be difficult."

"Hmm, well in that case, maybe we should just call it a night so you can sleep it off," she teased.

"Or maybe you should take advantage of my lack of inhibitions," he retorted, scooping her up and carrying her to bed. He put her on her back and moved on top of her.

"Since when have you ever had any inhibitions in bed, babes?" she asked, smirking at him as he kissed his way down her neck and opened her robe as he went. She hummed in approval and played her fingers through his hair.

He sat up and scratched his chin as he pondered her point. "Hmm, fair enough."

She laughed as he undid the tie of her robe and threw it open, revealing her bare breasts and her black boy shorts.

"Shall we say that I took advantage of your drunken state, then?" he questioned, lifting her leg and kissing his way along her calf to her thigh.

"Mmm, that is probably more…accurate…oh…" she moaned, her eyes closing.

He chuckled darkly. "Take off your robe, love."

She quickly obeyed, pulling her arms free of the silk and tossing it to the floor.

"Good," he smirked, kissing her through her panties.

She gasped and raised her arms over her head, her pulse jumping as he tugged her underwear off and began removing his pyjamas.

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, December 11, 2017**

Isobel pursed her lips and glanced over at the large clock on the wall. She turned her head and looked to the doorway leading out to the parlour and the Great Hall beyond, her tea and scone still ignored.

"Mother," Matthew scolded her gently. "It's only been five minutes."

Her eyes snapped over to his. Seeing his patient understanding, she nodded and smiled apologetically. "I know. I'm sorry, my boy. I just…"

"I know," he nodded. "The nurses will come get you if necessary. She's napping. She's fine."

She nodded and took up her tea cup yet again.

He sipped his Earl Grey. Truthfully, Mother was terrible company these days. She spent every moment – waking and asleep – with Violet, and though she was glad to have him back at Downton, he hadn't seen much of her at all. Violet didn't go outside for walks anymore, the temperature being too cold, and some days she didn't even venture downstairs, her coordination and balance sometimes rebelling against her. Mary and her sisters spent hours in her room, sometimes not even talking, just watching movies or listening to music that she recognized. There were nurses watching her around the clock now, even the most basic tasks requiring assistance. There were days where she was responsive and could communicate, and her surly moods weren't any different from before, really, but they all knew she was slipping away more each day, and it was crushing to think about.

He had brought Mother downstairs for tea as much for his own sake as for hers. He detested seeing Violet like this, so frail and helpless, and seeing Mother suffer along with her was heartbreaking. He cursed his own weakness at not being able to face this head-on, which just made him feel worse. He knew he would only get twenty minutes at most before Mother went back upstairs, but it was a welcome reprieve, particularly since he was on his own with Mary and Edith having gone to York with Cora, and Sybil and Tom were upstairs napping with Emily.

"How's Alex doing these days?" she asked randomly, nibbling on her scone and trying to make conversation.

"Good," he nodded. "He and Anna are in Toronto now, but they're spending Christmas in London with her mum. I probably won't see him until after New Year when we all go back to Paris."

"That's nice," she noted. "And he and Anna are still trying?"

"They are," he confirmed. "Hopefully it won't take as long this time, but they don't want to overthink it."

"She needs to just calm down. Plenty of women have miscarriages before they get pregnant the first time. It's even somewhat common to still happen after you have your first child," she shrugged.

"I don't think it's unreasonable for a woman to be self-conscious and afraid after going through an ordeal like that," he remarked.

"But gone through it she has, and has survived to try once again. She needs to put it behind her and accept that these things happen," she declared.

He nodded and sipped his tea.

She looked at the clock again when his phone started ringing.

"It's Joe," he said, glancing at the call display.

"Oh, go on and take that, it's probably important. I'll see you later," she said quickly, getting up from her chair.

"But…" he called out after her while answering his phone.

"Thank you for tea, my dear!" she smiled back at him before walking briskly out of the room.

He sighed and shook his head. "Hello," he said drily, putting his headset in his ear.

"Matthew! Hi, it's Phyllis," Phyllis greeted him.

"And Joe!" Joe chimed in.

"Right, we've got you on speaker!" Phyllis announced.

"Yes, I gathered that," Matthew replied, smiling in amusement. "How are the both of you doing?"

"We're doing great!" Joe yelled.

"Dear, he can hear us perfectly well. You don't need to shout!" Phyllis hissed.

"Oh, right, of course. We're doing great, Matthew!" he shouted just a tad softer.

"Good, good. What's going on?" Matthew asked.

"You mean you don't know?" Joe asked.

"Know what?" Matthew answered in confusion.

"I told you he wouldn't know," Phyllis said smugly.

"Anyway, Matthew, we have a bit of news, you see. Just this afternoon, well, actually, it's the morning in Los Angeles, but the afternoon here, the nominations for the Golden Globes were announced," Joe informed him.

Matthew blinked. "Oh. Right, right. Yes, I didn't even know. Will I be going over, then?"

"You most certainly will be!" Phyllis cheered enthusiastically.

Matthew smiled. "Oh, that's brilliant. Mary will be so happy."

"I imagine she will be, yes!" Joe laughed.

"She's worked so hard, you know, and there's reason for optimism this time, isn't there? Winning the Emmy must give her a decent chance of winning the Golden Globe, too, shouldn't it?" Matthew gushed happily, regretting that he wasn't with Mary now so he could see her smiling face.

"What?" Joe blurted out.

"Joe, he thinks she got it," Phyllis muttered.

"What's that?" Matthew asked.

"Matthew, no, you're misunderstanding. Mary wasn't nominated," Joe explained.

Matthew closed his eyes and sighed. "Damn. That's disappointing. So they've asked her to present? Well, that's not what she was hoping for, obviously, but it's something at least. Maybe she'll get some good publicity from it."

"No, Matthew, that's not it. Mary's not presenting, either," Phyllis advised.

He blinked and frowned. "But you said that I was going to the ceremony. If Mary isn't nominated, and she's not presenting, then why would we be going there?"

 **The Shambles, York, Yorkshire, England, December 11, 2017**

Mary and Edith wandered the old cobblestone street, stopping every so often to duck into a shop. They had been coming here since they were little girls, and nothing about the short, quaint path to the bustling market was particularly novel or impressive anymore, but they still liked it. The place was something out of a Dickens novel, and time seemed to stand still here. The street from another era was such a sharp contrast to the bustling avenues of London that they were used to.

"Do you suppose she'll make it past Christmas?" Edith asked quietly.

Mary frowned at her. "Edith, don't even think it."

"I know, I know, but I can't help it. The way she looks on her bad days, I just…" Edith stammered.

"I know," Mary sighed. "Let's just enjoy the time we have left with her, however long it may be. We're here until just past New Year's, so if she makes it that long, we should be grateful, and we'll take it day-by-day after that."

Edith nodded.

Mary reached into her purse for her phone and glanced at it. Frowning, she tucked it back away and kept walking.

"What is it?" Edith asked.

"Oh, it's nothing," Mary shook her head. "The nominations for the Golden Globes are being announced in Los Angeles and I'm expecting a call from Aunt Rosamund."

"Oh, right," Edith nodded. "Well, maybe they're running late? You know how these things are. There are always delays."

"Or the Hollywood Foreign Press deems me unworthy," Mary grumbled. "I shouldn't complain. The Golden Globes and the Emmys seldom agree on nominees. Tatiana Maslany wasn't nominated last year after she won her Emmy."

"You've still got the SAG Awards, right?" Edith suggested.

Mary nodded. "I really shouldn't care. I've been nominated for all three before and not won. I've got my trophy already. I should be happy about that and not worry about anything else."

"That sounds like great advice," Edith smiled.

"It's Matthew's," Mary rolled her eyes. "He's the one who keeps telling me that."

Edith laughed.

Mary's phone buzzed in her purse and she quickly took it out.

"Aunt Rosamund?" Edith asked.

"No, it's a text from Anna," Mary noted, removing her glove and swiping her finger across the screen to open the message.

"What's she say?" Edith questioned, glancing over at Mary's phone.

"Probably sending me the list of actresses nominated instead of me," Mary answered. "Yes, here we are – Caitriona Balfe, Claire Danes, Claire Foy, Taraji P. Henson, and Winona Ryder. Well, then."

"That's not a bad lot," Edith noted.

"Indeed. Oh, look, Henry was nominated again. Isn't that just lovely?" Mary grumbled, scrolling through Anna's messages. "Well, I suppose I won't be there in person to endure his insufferable presence, so that's a positive."

Edith smiled sympathetically.

"Oh my God!" Mary exclaimed, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open.

"What is it?" Edith asked in concern.

Mary looked at her sister in shock and showed her the phone screen.

"Oh my God!" Edith echoed, staring at the text.

 **Home of Alex and Anna Lewis, Rosedale, Toronto, Canada, December 11, 2017**

 _'Best Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role in any Motion Picture – Matthew Crawley, Shattered…'_

Alex laughed and shook his head. He rewound the video and played it again, not even bothering to wait for the other nominees to be read aloud. He listened to Matthew's name being called again and again, marveling at it every time.

"You fucking lucky motherfucker," he exclaimed, clapping his hands and laughing again.

"Babes, I think he deserves a bit more praise than that," Anna joked, coming into the living room and sitting down on the couch next to him.

He laughed and put his arm around her, drawing her to him. She tucked her legs underneath her and leaned into him, smiling at his giddiness for his friend's success. She could barely believe it herself.

"He wasn't nominated for the Critics' Choice Award. He wasn't nominated in Australia, wasn't nominated in Boston, Chicago, Toronto, Vancouver, Palm Springs, none of the places that usually indicate who is building positive momentum for the bigger awards. But he goes and gets nominated for the Golden Globe! That guy, I'm telling you, he just doesn't do anything the way you're supposed to!" Alex chatted happily.

"I think that's a good thing. It's so boring being predictable," she stated.

"He'll be in shock. He probably fainted," he smiled, reaching for his phone.

"Well I, for one, am happy for him, and I'm looking forward to seeing him being the centre of attention for once," she declared.

He blinked and looked over at her. "That's right, Mary wasn't nominated. Shit. She'll still be happy for him, right?"

She sighed. "Yeah, for sure she'll be happy for him, but she's going to be going as his date, and he and Henry will both be there vying for awards. That's going to annoy her a bit, there's no denying that."

He nodded in understanding before turning to his phone and dialing Matthew's number. "Well, she can be annoyed next month. Today is his day."

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, December 11, 2017**

"I am so fucking proud of you!" Sybil laughed, kissing Matthew over and over and hugging him tight. "You bloody did it!"

Matthew laughed and stopped her from jumping up and down. "Thanks. Now, take it easy. You're still recovering."

"Oh, shut up. I'm fine. I'm the doctor, remember?" she huffed. "Are you happy? Please be happy, darling, even just a little."

"I am happy," he protested, frowning at her smiling face when she stepped back from him. "I just wish that both of us had gotten nominated. It isn't as if my performance was any better than hers, and she just won the Emmy for _Paladin_ , for God's sake."

"Don't criticize the Hollywood Foreign Press. You don't want any bad karma before the ceremony," she reminded him. "Besides, who knows where their spies may be lurking?"

He laughed and shook his head.

"I just wish I could be there to see it. You're going to win, I just know you will! They always go for newcomers in this category," she stated.

He grunted in disbelief. "I doubt that. Anyway, you're not supposed to travel so soon afterwards, you know."

She put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. "Darling, it will be almost six weeks by then. I could fly now if I wanted to."

"But you won't, not if you don't want Tom to have a heart attack," he replied.

"Oh, please. If he wants any more children, he has to stay on my good side," she retorted with a smug grin.

He laughed ruefully.

"Matthew! Congratulations!" Edith beamed, coming into the room and running to him. "It's so fantastic! Well done!"

He kissed her on the cheek and hugged her. "Thanks. I really can't believe it. I keep thinking this must all be a dream, or some horrible mistake."

"Oh come on, you were great. We all thought so way back at the premiere," Edith assured him.

"You're just a bit biased, but thank you," he chuckled.

"Exactly, we are biased. We hate admitting when you've done well, so this must really have been a special performance," Sybil joked.

He shook his head. "Where's Mary? Didn't she come back with you?"

Edith nodded. "She went straight upstairs when we got home."

Sybil frowned.

"Oh, I see," he responded. "Well, she's probably just tired from all the shopping, or maybe she didn't know I was down here. I'll go up and check on her."

Edith and Sybil both nodded to him as he walked past them and headed for the Great Hall.

"She just went straight upstairs?" Sybil asked. "Was she at least happy when she heard the news?"

"She was angry that she wasn't nominated," Edith shrugged. "She was surprised when she found out about Matthew. I think she was happy at some point in amongst all that."

Sybil sighed and shook her head.

* * *

"Darling?" Matthew called, coming into Mary's bedroom and looking around. "Are you in here?"

He glanced from the untouched bed to the tall windows and over to the open door leading to the dressing room. There was no sign of Mary at all. They were sleeping in his bedroom in the Bachelor's Wing, but she still kept her luggage and clothes here in her old room. When Edith mentioned that she had gone upstairs, he assumed she had come here. She knew he never spent any time in his room during the day.

He went over to the window and looked out across the frozen fields below. As excited as he was to be nominated, he felt badly for Mary being passed over. Warring emotions wrestled inside of him, stopping him from fully enjoying this incredible moment. Part of him was ecstatic at being nominated for a role that he had poured every ounce of effort and skill that he had into making his own. Another part was looking forward to walking the red carpet with Mary, posing for photos and doing interviews where he would be the focus, for once. A small part was even eager to see the look on Henry's face. He prayed that he would be seated at a better table closer to the stage.

For all of his excitement, part of him worried about how Mary would handle the news. Her confidence was hanging by a thread. She appeared composed on the outside, but he knew the past few months had worn on her. They never spoke about it, but he expected she was desperately hoping to be nominated again, believing that a decent awards season would help put her back in the conversation in Hollywood. The Emmy victory was a great start, but if she was ignored after that, the year would turn and she'd be stuck in France. Besides, he knew she didn't like being a trophy, just a pretty woman on the arm of a man, which is what she would be reduced to as his date.

Beyond that, there was Violet's deteriorating condition, Sybil's new baby and all the usual bustle of the holidays to take up her time. He knew she would be happy for him, but she wasn't as expressive as Sybil, or as complimentary as Edith, even at the best of times. A part of him wanted her to make a big deal out of it, to support him as faithfully and openly as he supported her, but given the circumstances, that was probably too much to ask.

He sighed, his eyes lingering on the bench below the large tree in the distance. It was funny how his phone was still overflowing with congratulatory text messages, emails, voicemails, and mentions. Alex had called shortly after Phyllis and Joe. He heard from Lavinia, Thea, Rick, Natalie, even Rooney and dozens of his friends and people he'd worked with over the years. Yet he wanted more than anything for one kind word from one woman in particular.

Anna would post on Mary's social media accounts about how proud of him she was, so that was something.

"I believe that congratulations are in order," Mary drawled, her hands sliding up his chest from behind.

He blinked and grunted in surprise, looking down as she slid her fingers under his shirt and caressed his bare skin.

"Congratulations, darling. It's so amazing, isn't it? I already called for my stylist to send over some ideas. What do you want me to wear? It's your night, after all," she continued, raising up and kissing the back of his neck.

He smiled and pulled her hands away so he could turn around and take hold of her hips. She grinned at him and kissed him softly.

"Where were you?" he asked.

"I was hiding in the bathroom," she revealed. "I knew you would come up looking for me, and I didn't want to share you with my sisters."

"Thank you," he nodded. "I appreciate you putting on a brave face for me."

She arched her eyebrow at him in question. "What are you talking about?"

He blinked. "Well, I'm happy to be nominated, obviously, but I just wish you had been recognized as well. I don't understand why you weren't, really…"

She smiled. "Darling, thank you for being so wonderful, but none of that is important, not really anyway, and certainly not today. Today is about you. I know more than anyone how hard you worked to not only get the role to begin with, but to put everything you had into it, and this is your reward. You deserve this. I'm proud of you. I'll be honoured as it is to be there as your date. You've done far more for me so many times, so now it's my turn to be there for you."

His eyes widened in surprise.

She laughed. "Don't give me that look. I am capable of being a supportive girlfriend, you know."

"Yes, certainly you can be! Obviously!" he recovered quickly. "I…I'm really looking forward to being there with you."

"Our first Golden Globes together as a true couple. No arriving separately, no sitting apart," she teased, smiling and kissing him. "It's going to be glorious."

He chuckled and kissed her, closing his eyes and humming contentedly as he hugged her close.

"Do you know what else I'm really looking forward to, darling?" she whispered in his ear. "I've never made love with a Golden Globe winner before."

His eyes shot open. Her hands massaged his back and moved down to squeeze his bottom.

"Just imagining you up on that stage accepting your award makes me quite randy," she purred sultrily, kissing his neck and licking his earlobe. "When we get back to our hotel after you win, you can do anything you want to me, darling. Absolutely anything. Your wish is my command."

"Oh God, Mary," he groaned, inhaling her perfume and kissing her neck and shoulder.

She laughed wickedly. "I suppose you do deserve something for being nominated. That's already an accomplishment in and of itself, isn't it?"

"I like to think that it is, yes," he growled.

"Let's go to your room and discuss this further," she suggested, finding his mouth and kissing him deeply. "I can be louder there."

He groaned again and she smiled, taking his hand and leading him out to the hallway.

He followed quickly after her.

The two of them did not emerge until Carson rang the dinner gong.

 **Downton Village Church, Downton Village, Yorkshire, England, December 24, 2017**

Mary lit another candle and stepped back to take stock of her work. There was one for Granny, another for Isobel, and one more for Emily. She thought she was done at three, but it didn't seem to make sense to not include Sybil and Tom if she was going to light one for their daughter, so she paid for another two. She grouped Edith and Bertie into one, and somewhat reluctantly added her parents for another, which brought the count to seven. She was lucky that the church was small and there wasn't anyone waiting to light their own candles. She was already occupying an entire row in the votive candle box for her family as it was.

Matthew stood by, smiling in amusement as he watched her genuinely worry over it all.

She sighed and lit one more for Anna and Alex, and glanced over her shoulder at Matthew, giving him a wry frown before she added another candle. That was nine now. Satisfied, she put a few more quid in the collection box and stepped back, took a deep breath and closed her eyes, bringing her hands together in front of her in prayer.

Out of respect, and partly because he thought the whole thing quite funny, he closed his eyes as well and bowed his head. He wasn't overly religious, and neither was she, but this year they seemed to have more to be thankful for, more to hope for, and more to pray for than in years past. They had visited Holy Trinity Lutheran Church in Manhattan, Notre-Dame in Paris and Westminster Abbey in London and lit candles there in the past few months. He didn't ask her what she was praying for, and she didn't tell, but he was fairly confident that he knew. For his own part, he said a quiet prayer for his parents, his father long departed and his mother still hanging on. He wished for peace for Violet, good health for Emily, and luck for everyone else. When he opened his eyes, Mary was finished and putting her gloves back on. He waited patiently and she came over, took his arm and headed for the door.

"That was nice," he noted, bringing her outside into the cold night air, their boots crunching on the snow covered ground on the way to the car.

"Travis always does a fine job with Midnight Mass," she agreed.

He brought her to her side of the car and opened the door for her, helping her in as the ground was quite slick. Stepping carefully around to the driver's side, he glanced up at the old church one last time before getting in. When he started the engine and put the car in gear, his eyes found the double front doors in the rear view mirror. He said another prayer and placed his gloved hand on Mary's thigh, driving slowly back to Downton Abbey.

 **Savoy Suite, The Savoy Hotel, Mayfair, London, England, December 27, 2017**

"For fuck's sake!" Anna hissed, closing the door behind her and stomping into the suite.

"I told you there would be lines," Alex called from the bedroom, chuckling pleasantly.

She rolled her eyes and removed her layers of clothing, leaving her boots in the foyer, her mittens, hat, muffler and coat on a chair and her cardigan on the sofa. Down to jeans and a t-shirt now, she was still fuming when she came into the bedroom.

"An hour it took before I even reached the front of the bloody line!" she complained, crossing her arms in front of her. "It's a good thing we already ate dinner, otherwise I would have starved for waiting."

He laughed and shook his head, walking past her and into his walk-in closet. "I told you. It's two days after Christmas. The malls are still going to be rammed. I don't know why you had to return it today, anyway."

"Because we're already strapped for time as it is," she whinged, frowning at him when he came back out. "I wanted to go skating tonight, too, but it's so late now, and probably super crowded anyway."

"We can go tomorrow, or later this week," he assured her, going over to her nightstand and lighting a candle. "We've still got six days here."

"I know, but still," she grumbled. "It was so frustrating waiting in that line. Half the people didn't even know whether they were in the right line or not!"

He laughed and circulated around the room, lighting candles and placing them on both nightstands, the dresser and the small table by the window.

She blinked and looked at him curiously. "What's all this?"

"Candles," he replied, finishing up and placing the lighter down. He passed behind her. "Lavender, vanilla and sandalwood."

"Why are you lighting candles?" she asked, frowning in confusion.

He turned off the lights and the candles cast a warm glow across the bed. She blinked when he came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"To set the mood," he said softly, leaning down and kissing her cheek.

Her pique seemed to drain out through her toes. The warmth from the candles and the touch of his hands seemed to gather in her chest.

"You've had a very difficult night," he stated, his hands turning her around to face him. "Want me to make it better?"

She nodded, her eyes staring up at his, her hands going around his waist.

He smiled and leaned down, his lips finding hers and kissing her softly, once, twice, three times before his tongue slipped into her mouth.

She closed her eyes and moaned in approval, pressing herself against him, her tongue sliding along his. Her heartbeat quickened, arousal pulsing through her at the thought that he had planned this for them while she was out.

Her fingers came in between them and quickly undid his belt.

"You're eager, love," he laughed, continuing to kiss her.

"I'm eager for you," she replied, undoing his trousers and throwing them down his legs.

He lifted her t-shirt over her head and she unbuttoned his shirt in reply, kissing his chest as she loosened her jeans and kicked them off. She gasped when he picked her up off the floor, her legs locking around his waist.

"You're tense," he noted, kissing her neck, his fingers finding the tight knots in her back.

She sighed at the contact, arching against him.

"How can I help?" he asked, bringing her to the bed and easing both of them on to the soft duvet.

"Fuck me," she breathed, kissing him back, her hips grinding against his. "Fuck me hard."

He laughed darkly, the sound making her shiver. "I want to tie you up," he told her, kissing her neck to let the thought take hold. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," she agreed readily.

"Can I blindfold you?" he asked, his fingers nimbly undoing her bra and tossing it aside.

"Mmm hmm, oh yeah," she whimpered, nodding her head eagerly. She moaned when his mouth found her breast.

He kissed her all over, shifting her on to her back and running his hands up and down her body. Her eyes shot open when she felt him sit up and heard the nightstand drawer open.

"Hands," he demanded, holding up a long length of red silk.

She swallowed nervously and raised her arms towards him. Her eyes widened and her pulse jumped as he tied the silk around her wrists and pulled it taut.

"Too tight?" he asked, looking at her carefully.

She shook her head quickly, her breathing growing ragged with anticipation.

He smiled and moved her arms over her head, tying the silk to the headboard. When he was finished, she tugged on it and could barely move, her back arching and presenting her breasts to his leering gaze.

"Fuck, you look amazing," he whispered, leaning down and kissing her.

She moaned as his lips moved down her neck, across her shoulder and down to her breasts. She closed her eyes and writhed beneath him, a harsh gasp leaving her mouth when she felt soft cloth come over her face.

"You all right?" he asked, his voice sounding far away.

"Yeah," she nodded, seeing only darkness. The air in the room sounded like a rushing wind to her ears now, and the warmth of the candles seemed to flare on her bare skin.

"I love you so much," he proclaimed, his words seeming to sink into her skin as his warm mouth moved lower and lower down her body.

She lifted her hips at his urging and whimpered when he removed her panties, the cool softness of the duvet beneath her naked body a contrast to the heated air around her. He kissed along her waist, tickling her navel for a moment before spreading her legs.

"Tell me if I'm doing this right," he asked playfully, kissing her thigh.

She frowned slightly in confusion. He never lacked for skill in that department before…

"Oh God!" she cried, the heat of his mouth shockingly intense as his tongue swiped over her. She pulled at her bonds, her body rolling in time with every stroke. He lifted her legs up and pushed them back, almost bending her in half and opening her up even more. The ease with which he moved her and did what he wanted with her almost sent her flying. Her hips thrust against his mouth, urging him deeper, chasing her own release.

"I'm close," she choked out between moans.

"Do it," he ordered, his fingers working in concert with his mouth.

She shouted out and let go, imagining what she must look like, what they must look like while he ravished her through her release. Her legs fell uselessly to the bed, her chest rising and falling with her desperate breaths. He kissed his way up to her mouth, his touch electric on her skin.

"Did you like that?" he whispered, his breath warm on her ear. His weight on top of her was comforting, and she grinned excitedly.

"Yeah," she replied, nodding and turning her head towards him. "So good."

"More?" he asked.

She nodded again. The darkness of the blindfold and the loss of her vision had her mind reeling, wondering what he had in store for her, and anxious to find out.

He untied her from the headboard and pulled her up, turned her around and brought her hands behind her back. She swallowed and breathed out harshly when he tied her wrists together again. She felt him move, her head bowed, the blood pounding in her veins.

"Come here," he ordered, bringing her to him.

She gasped when he nudged her legs apart and moved her on top of him, her trapped hands rendering her helpless in his arms. She wasn't scared, though. She didn't need to be, which left only the lust, and the thrill of behaving so wanton and wicked with her husband.

"Mmm," she moaned as he lowered her on to him. His hands cupped her bottom while his mouth captured her breast. She threw her head back and and moved her hips, riding him hard and taking him deeper with every plunge.

They found a frantic rhythm, moving against each other faster and faster. He reached up and took hold of her face bringing her down to his mouth. She groaned and kissed him hungrily, her tongue playing with his while every thrust of his hips sent her desire spiralling. She was on top, and yet at his mercy just the same. This was addictive and so new to both of them. The darkness behind the blindfold became a colourful series of images, a depraved show of all the things he could do to her, all the things she was powerless to resist. It was a side to him that she had never seen before, and a side of herself she had never fully explored, either. The thought that she brought this out of him, and that she could be this way for him made her drunk with desire.

She cried out as her second release overtook her, pressing down on him and moaning into his mouth. He took off the blindfold and her eyes shot open, staring at his just before he grunted and shot over and over. He held her tight, kissing her firmly. She shifted her hips back and forth, whimpering until he was finished.

"That was so hot," she drawled, kissing his face.

He chuckled and untied her hands, pulling her down so they were lying on their sides, their legs intertwined.

She tucked her head into his shoulder as he pulled the duvet over their heated bodies. He rubbed her back soothingly, neither of them sleepy, the shock of what they'd just done still fresh.

"This raises all sorts of possibilities, doesn't it?" she asked softly, kissing his chest.

"Such as?" he replied, holding her closer.

"I'll tell you when I've recovered a bit more," she teased, laughing freely.

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, January 1, 2018**

Mary and Matthew waited patiently in the hallway, neither of them quite ready to go in just yet. The festivities of ringing in 2018 seemed a distant memory now, though it was just an hour ago that the New Year had arrived. A quiet champagne toast with her sisters and parents was all they did, no one really feeling like celebrating too much. With the Golden Globes taking place this coming weekend, they were flying to Los Angeles tomorrow. The studio had arranged for a private jet, Matthew suddenly being the shining star after his nomination. They didn't think about any of that, though.

The door opened and Sybil emerged, her eyes red and swollen. She sniffled and nodded to her sister.

"Go on," Sybil said encouragingly.

Mary squeezed Matthew's hand before stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

Matthew held out his arms and Sybil came into his embrace, sobbing into his shoulder.

"It's all right, darling," he said. "She knows you were there, in her own way."

She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder. "She was actually quite lucid, relatively speaking. She told me to go and find myself a nice boy."

He laughed and shook his head. "Go back to your nice boy and get some sleep."

She kissed him on the cheek and sighed before heading off down the hall to her room.

Matthew watched her go, then turned and looked at the closed door, silently praying for strength, both for Mary, and for himself.

* * *

Mary sat down on the bed and took Granny's hand in hers. She brought it up to her mouth and kissed it, then held it against her stomach protectively.

Violet blinked several times and opened her eyes, a wavering smile on her face when she looked at her.

"Hi Granny, it's Mary," Mary said, keeping eye contact, as much to hold her attention as to avoid looking at the rest of her frail body. "Happy New Year."

"New Year," Violet mumbled, nodding her head slowly.

"Do you have a resolution for me?" Mary asked gently.

Violet wheezed and looked away for a moment.

Mary cringed in despair.

Violet found her eyes again.

"Mary," she whispered.

"Yes," Mary nodded.

"Mary…Matthew…" Violet muttered.

"Yes, Matthew is just outside," Mary confirmed.

Violet smiled. "Mary…Matthew…" Violet repeated.

She blinked and looked at her Granny suspiciously. "Marry Matthew?"

Violet closed her eyes and nodded.

"Granny! Honestly!" Mary huffed, though she immediately regretted reacting so harshly. Isobel had told her over and over to not argue or upset Granny when speaking to her.

Violet opened her eyes and smiled, and just for a moment, it seemed to Mary that her eyes were bright and playful.

Mary shook her head and squeezed her hand. "Meddlesome until the last. I love you, Granny. Thank you for everything. I wouldn't even be a shadow of who I am today if it wasn't for you."

Violet smiled and closed her eyes once more.

Mary choked back her tears. She set Granny's hand gently on the bed and got up. A part of her wanted to stay, to just stay and watch her sleep, but they wanted to grab their chance with her while she was still somewhat awake, and so everyone had come up to see her. She and Matthew were the last to come in.

When she opened the door to let Matthew through, the tears were falling down her cheeks unhindered. She took his hand briefly before heading down the hallway to the Bachelor's Wing, her sobs echoing off the old walls.

* * *

Matthew kneeled at the side of the bed. He didn't want to wake Violet, who seemed so calm and at ease as she slept. Her breathing was rough, as it had been for weeks now, but her face was composed and peaceful, the additional wrinkles doing nothing to take away from her elegance.

"I owe you so much," he whispered, resting his chin on his folded hands. "I was always so afraid of someone coming along and replacing Papa, not because I didn't think that Mother deserved to be happy again, but because I didn't know how I would react to having a stepdad. You've saved my family more times than I can count, in so many ways."

He had to shut his eyes and steel himself before continuing.

"Thank you for all that you've done. I know that if you didn't approve of me and Mary, you would have seen to it that I didn't end up with her. I'm very grateful that you looked past all of my flaws to let me be with her," he chuckled, smiling at the memories of the formidable Dowager Countess and how one stern look or stomp of her cane could bring an entire room to silence.

"We're going to the Golden Globes this weekend," he struggled, the tears coming forth. "Everyone will be asking us about you. They always ask about you. I'll tell them that you're doing great, so don't go and make a liar of me."

His lip quivered.

"I love you," he nodded, sniffling and wiping his eyes. "I know you never said it back, but I like to think the feeling was mutual."

He leaned over and kissed her forehead, taking one last look before he stood back up. Mother would be coming back in soon, and he knew that if he saw the two of them together, he would lose it completely and breakdown.

"Goodnight, Violet. Happy New Year," he finished softly, trying to give her a brave smile. After several seconds, he finally turned away and left the room.

* * *

Isobel opened her eyes, suddenly feeling cold. She shivered and sat up, the duvet gathered around her waist. The sun peeked in around the closed drapes and she glanced over at the digital clock on the nightstand. Almost 7 in the morning.

She turned and looked at Violet, checking to make sure the duvet was covering her. Lady Grantham was lying still, her mouth parted slightly, her eyes closed.

Isobel took a deep breath and pursed her lips. She reached over and took Violet's hand, running her fingers back and forth over the cold, dry skin. She closed her eyes and turned away for a moment, gritting her teeth before daring to face her once more.

"You told me once I couldn't foresee the future, remember?" Isobel whispered. "And you were right. I never in my wildest imagination could have foreseen all that has led us to now. Were you taking pity on me, I often wondered, or were you feeling alone enough yourself that even I would do? Either way, you made me love you, you old curmudgeon. How am I to turn the next man's head now after all you've done?"

Isobel smiled and reached out a shaking hand, caressing Violet's thin hair and patting her face.

"If you see Reggie, do be nice to him please, my sweet," Isobel asked softly. "I'll see both of you soon."

She leaned over and kissed Violet tenderly. Sitting back up, she wiped her eyes and dragged herself out of bed, opening the drapes to let the sunshine in before hitting the call-button for the nurses.


	20. Chapter 20

**Previously:**

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, January 1, 2018**

Isobel opened her eyes, suddenly feeling cold. She shivered and sat up, the duvet gathered around her waist. The sun peeked in around the closed drapes and she glanced over at the digital clock on the nightstand. Almost 7 in the morning.

She turned and looked at Violet, checking to make sure the duvet was covering her. Lady Grantham was lying still, her mouth parted slightly, her eyes closed.

Isobel took a deep breath and pursed her lips. She reached over and took Violet's hand, running her fingers back and forth over the cold, dry skin.

"You told me once I couldn't foresee the future, remember?" Isobel whispered. "And you were right. I never in my wildest imagination could have foreseen all that has led us to now. Were you taking pity on me, I often wondered, or were you feeling alone enough yourself that even I would do? Either way, you made me love you, you old curmudgeon. How am I to turn the next man's head now after all you've done?"

Isobel smiled and reached out a shaking hand, caressing Violet's thin hair and patting her face.

"If you see Reggie, do be nice to him please, my sweet," Isobel asked softly. "I'll see both of you soon."

She leaned over and kissed Violet tenderly. Sitting back up, she wiped her eyes and dragged herself out of bed, opening the drapes to let the sunshine in before hitting the call-button for the nurses.

 **Chapter 20:**

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, January 2, 2018**

Rosamund typed away on her laptop, squinting at the monitor from behind her glasses. She stopped and read over the text, then sighed and erased the entire thing.

"For God's sake," she muttered, shaking her head and beginning anew.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Cora said gently, coming over and putting her hand on her sister-in-law's shoulder. "It's a very big ask."

Rosamund nodded and squeezed Cora's hand briefly. "She did this on purpose, you know? It's her final 'I told you so' to me. The successful Hollywood agent and publicist who can't even write a proper obituary. She's laughing at me right this very instant."

They both glanced up at the ceiling and smiled wryly.

"She wanted you to be the one to memorialize her to the world," Cora noted, returning to the settee. "She didn't trust any of us to do her justice."

"You're being far too kind, although I suppose if she didn't trust me at all then she would have left me something she had written herself to use instead," Rosamund acknowledged.

They laughed knowingly.

Since yesterday morning when Isobel calmly informed them all that Violet had passed away in her sleep, everyone had been constantly running around, it seemed. Dr. Clarkson came right away to confirm the diagnosis, advising that her heart failed and she would have felt no pain at all. Though they had all spent a quiet moment with her on New Year's Eve to capitalize on one of her more lucid spells, the finality of losing her was no less devastating.

Anticipating her death and living it were entirely different things, apparently.

"Where's Robert?" Rosamund asked, typing away with renewed vigour.

"He went over to Grassby's to finalize the funeral service for tomorrow. He could have done it all over the phone, but I think he wanted to get out of the house for a bit," Cora informed her.

Rosamund shook her head. "I think he always expected her to pull through it somehow. He must be crushed."

Cora nodded.

"How is Carson managing?" Rosamund asked.

"He's got the staff constantly organizing all the flowers and gifts that keep coming in," Cora replied. "There's been tributes from all over the world."

Rosamund nodded. "Meade called to say there's been a steady stream of fans showing up outside Painswick House with roses and cards. The neighbours must be furious."

"I told poor Travis that he'll need to take precautions for tomorrow. The entire Village will show up, of course, but I wouldn't be surprised if most of Ripon and York didn't come out as well. That's not even thinking about pilgrims from London," Cora shook her head.

"How are the girls?" Rosamund asked.

"Coping. Thank God that Matthew, Bertie and Tom are here, and Sybil's busy enough with Emily, so I think that's helped," Cora answered.

"The entire family gathered at Downton Abbey. She planned it, I'm telling you," Rosamund grumbled.

Cora smiled sadly and sipped her tea.

* * *

"I rebooked our flights and informed the hotel. I canceled the Wednesday and Thursday appearances. That makes your first event now the CAA party on Friday night, with the BAFTA Tea Party on Saturday," Anna advised, skimming over her tablet. "I confirmed that they're going to include Lady Grantham in the In Memoriam segment of the show and Lady Rosamund approved the photo already."

Mary nodded, her eyes staring vacantly out the window. She was curled up in her armchair, hugging a cushion tight to her chest, a cashmere blanket across her legs. "Thank you, Anna. I've been half myself since yesterday. I wouldn't even know where to begin to deal with all of this."

"It's my job," Anna replied patiently. "Rearranging things isn't a problem, I just wish we didn't have to do it under these circumstances."

Mary hummed sadly in reply.

"How's Matthew?" Anna asked.

"He's taking it rather hard, but he's more concerned for Isobel. We all are. When we found out, he didn't even want to go to Los Angeles anymore. She's the one who convinced him. Well, ordered him is probably more accurate. I see his point. I don't know how much celebrating we'll be doing so soon after losing Granny."

Anna nodded. "We were so happy for him, and now this."

"Doesn't seem nearly as important anymore, does it? Isobel's right, though. Matthew has to go. This is huge for him," Mary noted. "He'll be in the spotlight just for being nominated, and if he wins, well, he'll be the talk of the town."

"What do you think his chances are, really?" Anna enquired.

"Hard to say. I wasn't expecting him to even be nominated, so what do I know?" Mary sighed. "You would think that he'd be in tough, but his performance seems to have resonated with people. I honestly have no idea."

"All the more reason for him to attend, then," Anna replied.

"I don't know how much smiling he'll be doing, but we'll be there," Mary confirmed.

"It's going to be a rush to get your outfits sorted," Anna continued, going back to her tablet. "I had them send over updated photos. Since you're not going to as many events now, you can play around with your choices again."

"Fine," Mary answered. "I'll look at it all later tonight."

"The styling team wanted to know if you want to change your dress for the ceremony also," Anna mentioned. "They wondered if you would prefer a more muted colour."

Mary shook her head. "While I am in mourning, I don't want to wear black for six months. Granny would want me to look my best, both for Matthew's sake and for her. She would hate for me to wallow."

"That's what I told them," Anna nodded. "So we'll stick with the blue."

Mary didn't bother responding and returned to looking out the window.

* * *

"I'm going to take a trip," Isobel declared.

Matthew lifted his eyes from his tea and frowned. "What?"

"I'm going to take a trip," she repeated. "Starting in a few weeks. I'll be gone for a two months, I expect."

"Two months?!" he exclaimed, shaking his head. "Why? Whatever for?"

She smiled. "I promised her that I would. We had plans last year, but I refused due to her health. She made me swear to go once I could, so I must."

"Where will you go?" he demanded, his chest tight with worry.

"Asia. We were going to start in Hong Kong, do Singapore, Vietnam, Japan and Korea," she listed. "I expect I can stick to the same itinerary we originally mapped out."

He blinked. "You're going to tour Asia by yourself? No, absolutely not! I forbid it!"

She nodded patiently. "I'm not asking you, Matthew."

He sighed in exasperation. "All right, well at least let me go with you. I don't have anything booked yet, so I can take a few months and we can go together."

She laughed and shook her head. "No. Your place is with Mary in Paris, not taking care of your mother."

"You're not going to Asia alone!" he said firmly. "At least see if Robert and Cora will go with you for part of it."

"They would hate it. I'd be a burden to them," she objected.

"No, you wouldn't be, and they could stand to take a trip as well. I can have Alex talk to his parents. Maybe they can meet up with you, show you around," he suggested.

"I'll be fine," she scoffed.

"I'm not asking, Mother," he retorted. "Don't make me hire a guide and security for you, because I most certainly will!"

She laughed ruefully and relented. "All right. I'll see if Robert and Cora want to come along, and it's been ages since I've seen Alex's parents, so perhaps that's not so bad of an idea."

He exhaled in relief.

"You don't need to worry. I'm not going anywhere," she assured him.

He blinked, a cold shiver running down his back when he realized her meaning.

"As much as I miss your father and Violet, they would both hate me for giving up so soon. I expect I'll be around for quite some time yet," she explained.

"That's good to hear," he struggled uncomfortably.

"I'm going to have a bit of a kip. Go and see how Mary and her sisters are coping. They all rely on you, so you must be strong," she ordered.

"They're fine. I'm worried about you," he said.

She smiled and got up from her chair, walking steadily over to the bed. "I'm all right, my dear boy. I'll be a mess tomorrow, but for today, she'd want me to be strong."

Matthew got up and made sure she was comfortable in bed, arranging her pillows and the duvet. She gave him a grateful smile and dismissed him. He kissed her and left, closing the door behind him.

* * *

"We're going to the church early tomorrow so we can beat the crowd," Anna declared, looking at her reflection in the vanity mirror while she rubbed cream into her hands.

"I thought you'd be going over with Mary," Alex replied, adjusting the pillows behind him in bed.

"No, she'll be with Matthew and her sisters. It's more appropriate that the family remain together," she replied. "It's a private service, so she won't need me, hopefully."

"At least not for professional support this time," he noted.

She nodded and rose from her chair. Mrs. Hughes had their usual guestroom prepared when they arrived from London yesterday, the same room Anna stayed in from the first time she came over for slumber parties with Mary and her sisters when they were teenagers. Mary called her yesterday morning with the news and she and Alex arrived hours later, the rest of their plans for London put off.

"Did I ever tell you what Lady Grantham said to me at our wedding?" he asked, smiling at her as she came to bed.

She blinked in surprise and looked at him curiously. "No. I didn't even know she talked to you."

He chuckled and held out his arm for her to settle down against him. "She pulled me aside at the reception. I thought she was going to just say something polite, like a simple 'congratulations'. She grabbed my arm, looked me right in the eye and said 'If you break her heart, I shall unleash hell upon you'."

She covered her mouth and laughed. "She did not!"

He nodded. "She cared about you. She cared about you a lot."

She shook her head. "She always treated me like family, even before I started working for Mary. I honestly don't know why. She couldn't be bothered with any of Mary's other friends, or even Sybil and Edith's friends, too."

"Maybe she saw something in you," he suggested.

She nodded sadly. "Something that I didn't even see in myself. She once told me that the business was so cutthroat, and that I had to pick and choose my battles, since I represented Mary in everything that I did. She told me that Hollywood was full of sexist, horrid dinosaurs, but that trying to change them was a futile exercise. What mattered was fighting for things like equal pay and proper screen credit. She made me feel as though I had a role in all that, not just planning Mary's schedule. She made me feel as though I was vital to her career."

"You are vital to her career," he nodded.

"I guess. She helped me learn to be proactive and think a few steps ahead, to be assertive. That's why I'm so driven when I'm working, because outside of work, I'm much more shy," she stated.

"Really?" he asked in mock surprise. "I hadn't noticed."

She elbowed him in the ribs.

"I always admired her for retiring so young. She could have worked for at least another decade, not to mention all the movies she passed on so she could stay here. Some people would call it a missed opportunity, but putting your family first is very admirable," he mused.

She turned and looked at him. "Yeah, it is. Look, babes, I know tonight is the start of our window, but…"

He blinked. "Oh! Yeah, yeah, we're not going to try tonight, love."

"It's just been so tiring and sad since we got here, I'm really not in the mood," she continued.

"Sure. It would be almost rude of us," he muttered.

She smirked. "Not that you wouldn't be up for it, I know."

He frowned. "Come on, love. That's not fair."

"So you're saying you wouldn't if I asked you to?" she challenged.

"Well, I didn't say that. If you really wanted to, I would make it happen," he mumbled.

She laughed and cuddled up to him. "Like a machine."

He grunted and hugged her. "Tom and Sybil's little girl is pretty cute."

She nodded. "She's adorable, yeah."

"You looked comfortable when you were holding her today," he commented.

"I know how to hold a baby," she replied. "Are you wondering if I had some sort of epiphany when she was in my arms?"

"Not so much an epiphany, but I hoped that it didn't make you anxious," he confessed.

She lifted her head and smiled at him. "Babes, she's not ours. I can deal with other people's children without a care in the world because I'm not responsible for them and I know that. Your child, our child, would be so much different. I'm not afraid of getting pregnant again. I don't think I ever was. It's living in fear for those nine months, wondering if every wave of nausea, or cramp, or whatever, is another symptom that I'm going to lose it again."

He reached his hand up and caressed her face. "Love, you didn't lose anything. Something happened, that's all. You couldn't have done anything to prevent it. It's not your fault. It was never your fault."

She covered his hand with hers, looking at him searchingly. "What if something happens again?"

He nodded in understanding. "We'll get through it together."

She sniffled and nodded shakily.

"Come here," he whispered, pulling her to him.

She snuggled against him again and closed her eyes.

* * *

"Do you think she knew that she was running out of time?" Matthew asked softly, staring up at the dark ceiling above his bed. "Do you think she understood what was happening to her?"

"I've tried not to ponder that, but it has crossed my mind since she died," Mary replied, sighing, her head on his chest. "They say that Alzheimer's patients aren't aware of such things and wouldn't remember even if they were, but it's Granny. The rules for most people never applied to her."

"When I went in to see her, she was already asleep," he advised. "I didn't really get to talk to her much over the holidays, but before, she seemed as if she knew far more than she was letting on. Sometimes I could have sworn that…"

"She was back to being her," Mary finished, nodding in agreement. "I know. Sybil, Edith and I would sit with her and listen to her favourite music and her eyes would brighten just for a moment, as though everything had come back for her. When she looked at Emily for the first time, I thought I even saw her smile, as if she understood that she was looking at her great-granddaughter. But it's more likely that all of that was just in my imagination."

"Did you talk to her last night?" he asked.

She frowned. "Yes. I could barely make her out, but she saw me."

"I'm glad. Did she say anything in particular?" he enquired.

"Hmm? Oh, no, no, she didn't," she hesitated. "It was just gibberish, but I'm glad I got to have that time with her."

"Mmm," he acknowledged.

"I just can't believe she's gone," she whispered. "We spoke less and less over the past year, but it was always a comfort to know that she was here, that I could see her when I wanted to, talk to her about anything and she'd understand in a way that others wouldn't. I feel as though I've not just lost my grandmother, but a part of myself in a way."

He hugged her and stroked her back. "I know you're not one to believe in such things, but I like to think that she's still watching, still looking out for you."

"You're right, I'm sceptical about such esoteric concepts. For now, though, it does sound reassuring to think it so," she admitted.

They both closed their eyes.

"Darling?" she asked softly.

"Mmm?" he breathed.

"I love you," she stated.

"Mmm, love you too," he said, his arm still holding her to him.

 **Downton Village Church, Downton Village, Yorkshire, England, January 3, 2018**

 _'This tiny village in Yorkshire has this morning become the centre of the showbiz world. For centuries, Downton Village has formed part of the lands of the Earl of Grantham, and today, its residents have assembled at this church to say goodbye to one of Britain's true legends – Lady Violet Crawley, Dowager Countess of Grantham, and a star in her time on both stage and screen._

 _The two-time Oscar winner passed away peacefully in her sleep after celebrating New Year's Eve with her family. Famously protective of her privacy, the world saw very little of Lady Grantham after her unexpected retirement at the height of her fame. Her last stage performance was decades ago before a packed house on the West End. Younger generations are likely more familiar with Cora Levinson, her daughter-in-law, and a series regular on Coronation Street for years, and of course, Lady Mary Crawley, her granddaughter, who rose to fame as the Emmy-winning lead in the American television series, Paladin. The funeral service is for family and close friends only, though that hasn't stopped fans and media from descending upon this small village to say goodbye to one of the grand dames of British showbiz, and perhaps even catch a glimpse of her famous family._

 _Security around the church, and up at the family country home of Downton Abbey have been predictably heightened in light of so many guests and tourists coming to the area. The family arrived in a procession of cars less than an hour ago, and despite the sombre occasion, there was polite applause from the gathered crowd. Lady Grantham is survived by her two children – Robert, the Earl of Grantham, and Lady Rosamund Painswick. They arrived together with Cora Levinson, Countess of Grantham. Perhaps fitting for the funeral of the Dowager Countess, the aristocracy was well represented. Violet Crawley's cousins – Hugh MacClare, Marquess of Flintshire, and his wife, Susan, attended with their children – Lady Rose Aldridge, Lady Annabelle Gordon, and James MacClare, Earl of Newtonmore. Herbert Pelham, Marquess of Hexham, arrived with his wife, Lady Edith, the granddaughter of Violet Crawley._

 _There were few guests from the entertainment world, which makes sense considering that Violet Crawley did withdraw from the limelight at a rather early age. It seemed that everyone was waiting on the arrival of Lady Mary, however, and she did eventually appear, accompanied by her sisters, as well as by her boyfriend, Matthew Crawley, who has drawn quite a bit of attention lately for his surprise nomination for a Golden Globe at this weekend's awards ceremony in Los Angeles._

 _As we previously reported, it is a private service that is ongoing as we speak, however we understand that the church is absolutely filled to the rafters, as it were. The family has released a statement thanking the fans and well-wishers for their thoughts and prayers. We do not know if any of the family will be speaking to the media once the service is over, but we will bring you live pictures of their departure, which we expect in about forty minutes, and we are told that the ringing of the church bells in tribute to Violet Crawley will signal the end of the service. Pamela Barton, BBC Breakfast, Downton Village.'_

 **Cité du Cinéma studio complex, Saint-Denis, France, January 3, 2018**

"Edna!" Paul bellowed, not looking away from the television on the wall of his office.

"Yes?" Edna answered in French, calmly coming into his office, her tablet at the ready.

"Did you send the flowers to _Marie_?" he asked.

"I did, yes," she confirmed. "I also had Anna tell her that they were on their way. She said they were beautiful, and greatly appreciated."

"Who said that?" he asked, frowning at her.

"Who said what?" she checked, confused.

"Who said 'they were beautiful, and greatly appreciated'? Who said that?" he clarified.

"Mary did," she confirmed.

" _Marie_ said that to you?" he questioned.

"Well, no, Anna told me," she explained.

"Anna told you that _Marie_ said to her that the flowers were beautiful and greatly appreciated? Or was it that Anna told you that she thought the flowers were beautiful and greatly appreciated? Who said what?" he asked.

"Anna told me that Mary told her that the flowers were beautiful. Anna told me that Mary and the family appreciated the flowers. She did not tell me that Mary specifically told her that the flowers were 'greatly appreciated'. One generally does not tell another person that they appreciate something, it's usually inherent in their response," she informed him patiently.

"Inherent in the response," he repeated, turning back to the television screen. "Bon."

She smirked and swiped her finger across her tablet screen just to give her an excuse to look away from him.

"When will _Marie_ be here?" he asked.

"Not until next week. She's in Los Angeles this weekend. Her first day is next Monday, and she's leaving at the end of the month to go to the SAG Awards," she advised, checking the schedule on her tablet.

He frowned. "She goes with _Mathieu_?"

She nodded. "She's nominated as well for that one, but yes, Matthew will be there."

He didn't reply.

She waited.

"The trip to Nice, is everything ready?" he asked, not looking at her.

She nodded. "First weekend of February after Mary comes back. I confirmed that you'll have exclusive access to all the chosen sites and there will be security to ensure you aren't bothered."

He nodded. "And what about the party?"

"It's all arranged," she stated.

"Bon," he said.

She waited several moments for further instructions.

He didn't acknowledge her.

"If that will be all?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, waving his hand.

She turned to leave.

"Edna," he called.

"Yes?" she replied, turning to look at him.

His eyes remained on the television broadcast of Violet Crawley's funeral. "Make sure that it is understood that no assistants and staff are accompanying us. I don't want Anna there."

"Yes, sir," she responded crisply. "I'll tell her."

He said nothing further.

She left the office.

 **Downton Abbey, Yorkshire, England, January 3, 2018**

 _'I'm leaving in the morning, my dear. I doubt we'll meet again.'_

 _'Do you promise? I should hate to get my hopes up only to be let down once more by the sight of your deplorable face.'_

Mary rolled her eyes and shook her head, watching the image of Granny projected on the large screen. The woman in the movie they were watching was much younger, but still had the trademark sharp eyes and confident smirk. She closed the door on her jilted suitor and walked away, the triumphant music following her down the hall.

"She was so good in this, wasn't she?" Sybil commented, grinning from the seat next to her sister.

"She didn't win an Oscar for nothing," Edith noted, reaching for the popcorn bowl held in Bertie's lap.

Matthew smiled and held Mary closer, watching Violet's award-winning role. They used to come to the theatre room as children to watch whatever they wanted. Violet herself would sometimes sit here and watch a movie, never being one to venture out to the busy cinema in York. After the funeral and reception, they had retreated here to relax and unwind, the stress and sadness of the day weighing on all of them.

"Do you think she knew how good she was?" Tom asked, massaging Sybil's leg across his lap.

"Mary?" Edith asked, looking over at her sister.

"Don't ask me. Ask the Golden Globe nominee," Mary teased, sticking her tongue out at Matthew.

"It seems to me there's only one award winner amongst us here," Matthew countered, looking at her pointedly.

"I was mentioned in the local paper for performing in the school play when I was younger. Does that count?" Bertie asked.

They all laughed.

"When you're filming the scene, all you care about is hitting your marks and not screwing up your lines, I find," Matthew shrugged. "Every take could be the one the director likes, or could be total rubbish, so you just give it your best, but I don't think you know as you go along how good or bad the movie will turn out to be. We don't shoot the scenes in the order they appear in the final cut, so it's rather disjointed."

"He's right," Mary agreed. "I think that in the moment, if the dialogue is sharp and whoever you're playing opposite is on their game, you feel a bit of a rush, but it could be the twentieth time that you've done that exact same scene, so you're not going to be super excited every time."

"Well that's disappointing," Sybil remarked. "I thought there would be magic and fireworks popping off all the time."

"There was for me when we did our scenes together," Matthew said smoothly, smirking at Mary.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Don't be vulgar. Sybil's not talking about _that_ kind of fireworks."

They all looked back up at the screen as the movie finished.

"We've got to go and check on Emily," Sybil announced, getting up from her chair and looking pointedly at Tom.

"You would think we didn't even have a nanny at all," Tom whinged, wincing and rubbing his back when he stood up.

"Excuse you, Mr. 'No child of mine will be raised by servants'," Sybil retorted. "You seem to be enjoying the extra support."

"It does come in handy for afternoon kips," Tom admitted. "Ow!"

"Come on," Sybil ordered, smacking his arm again.

"We're off, too. We're meeting Bertie's mum for tea," Edith stated as they all made their way out into the hall.

"Please thank her for coming," Mary told Bertie.

"Mother and Violet knew each other for years. She wouldn't have missed this," Bertie assured her.

"Did you want to help Lady Grantham and Mrs. Crawley go through all the gifts and cards? They're just sitting in the parlour and it's probably not wise to leave the task to them alone," Anna suggested.

"I really don't want to, but you're right, we should help out," Mary nodded. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Take care of this one, would you, Matthew?" Anna asked, squeezing her husband's hand.

"We'll just come along," Matthew declared, glancing at Alex. "Easier to keep him out of trouble that way."

"Yeah, because I'm the one everyone has to worry about," Alex replied sarcastically.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Matthew frowned.

"Seriously? We need to remind you of the soap eating incident?" Alex joked.

"I was three years old!" Matthew complained.

Mary and Anna shared a knowing smile and the couples headed off to the parlour, their hearts a small bit lighter.

* * *

Mary wandered past the kitchens and down the hall. The caterers had taken over the space to prepare the food for the reception earlier. Despite Mrs. Patmore's protests, Dad had insisted that all the house staff attend the funeral as guests, rather than servants, and so they hired outside help to deal with the cooking. Now that they had departed, Mrs. Patmore was having the entire area scrubbed and cleaned, watching over the work like a hawk. Apparently, she wouldn't be able to sleep until her domain was restored to the way she liked.

Mary reached out and touched the smooth brick wall. Even when part of Downton Abbey had burned in a fire centuries ago, these basement levels survived. Over the decades, the house had been modernized as previous Earls put their own signature touches on the property. Electricity. Gas heating. Proper insulation. Fibre optics. No matter the innovation, these walls remained. Mary wasn't one for sentiment, nor nostalgia, but the enduring nature of the servants' floors was a comfort to her.

She smiled when she reached her destination and knocked on the familiar thick wooden door.

"My Lady," Carson replied, standing up from his desk. "Come in, please."

She nodded and entered his office, automatically going to her usual chair and sitting down. The butler smiled and sat back down in his worn leather chair.

"I wanted to check on you. I didn't have much of a chance all through dinner. How are you, Carson?" she asked.

"I'm fine, my Lady, thank you," he nodded. "It has been a difficult day, but Her Ladyship would not want me to blubber."

She chuckled at that. She couldn't imagine Carson blubbering. "Today went as well as could be expected, and everything was perfectly organized. Granny would have been pleased with your effort, Carson."

"Would that she could have told me so herself, my Lady," he sighed. "We'd been through so much together. I watched her grow as a Countess, a film star, a mother, and a grandmother. I believe it shall be quiet some time before I have accepted that she's gone. I can still hear her voice, and I keep looking at the phone, wondering if she'll ring for me."

She nodded patiently. She always assumed that her bond with Carson was unique and it was, but she had long ago gathered that it was in part because of those parts of Granny that he saw in her. Now, late in the evening after Granny's funeral, she considered it the highest compliment that Carson should hold her in comparison.

"Tell me a story please, Carson," she asked. "Something from Granny's youth."

He blinked in surprise, then sat back and frowned in thought. The butler had served the Crawley family since before Dad was born. He started out as a hall boy when the staff numbered in the dozens. Now he presided over a mere handful, but still refused to retire.

"I do remember one particular incident," he began, his soothing baritone still making her smile. "Lady Grantham, young Countess as she then was, of course, was hosting a dinner for some of His Lordship's business associates. There were a fair number of neighbours there as well. At dinner, Her Ladyship was steering the conversation where she liked, as she was wont to do, and there was a guest who asked her about a film that she was working on. She wanted to know why it took weeks, even months to produce a movie that was just over an hour long."

She smiled and nodded, anticipating an entertaining story.

"Well, Her Ladyship explained, quite patiently and kindly it must be said, that they managed about a scene per day mostly, with most of the time spent setting up the equipment and preparing the scene and what not. The guest asked, quite innocently, if Her Ladyship worked on the weekends as well," he continued.

"And what did Granny say to that?" she asked.

Carson chuckled. "She turned to look at me, actually, my Lady, and in her unique manner, said 'Carson, what is a weekend?'"

She laughed.

He nodded his head. "She was ever a diligent worker, my Lady, though she would not want anyone to know such a thing. She believed that the aristocracy was supposed to present an image that they were not weighed down by the pressures of earning a living, but she was as disciplined as anyone, and never used her family name or title to gain anyone's favour."

She smiled in agreement. "There shall never be anyone else like her, Carson."

"Not even close, my Lady," he said warmly.

"Everything feels different now, doesn't it? The house seems changed somehow without her here," she noted sadly.

"The reminders of her are everywhere, my Lady. Her trophies, different pieces of furniture and art that I remember her purchasing for the house. Her portrait will soon be mounted on the wall of the gallery as well. But it isn't the same, no," he remarked.

She nodded and looked down at her lap.

"Thank you for the visit, my Lady, but you ought to be heading upstairs," he suggested. "This is a time to be with family."

"I think I'll hide away for just a little while longer, Carson, if you don't mind," she replied.

"Won't Mr. Crawley be looking for you?" he asked.

She smiled. "He's playing cards with Dad, Tom, Bertie and Alex. I think they're trying to lift Dad's spirits, but they could all probably use the distraction. It's been such a long day."

The butler nodded and turned to his computer, frowning in concentration as he slowly moved his mouse around.

She watched him curiously, wondering what he was up to.

He sat back in satisfaction when an old song played from the speakers mounted high on the corners of the walls.

"One of Her Ladyship's favourites, if I recall," he said softly.

She smiled and closed her eyes, listening to the song and allowing it to carry her away.

* * *

Matthew sipped his whiskey slowly, savouring the taste. The library was silent so late in the evening, which was why he came here. He discovered it as a child, a vast chamber full of books stacked from the floor to the ceiling, so many that there were wheeled step ladders on each wall so you could climb up and fetch whichever tome you needed. Mary and her sisters seldom came here. No one did. Over the years, it was far simpler to read an electronic copy of whatever story you wanted to, and even Robert and Cora seldom spent time here. They would come in and grab whatever book they needed and leave, if they came in at all. If not for Carson's efforts, the place would be dusty and forgotten.

So many times in his youth he had hidden away in this very chair with _The Three Musketeers_ , or _Le Morte d'Arthur_ and only surfaced when the dinner gong rang, or Mother came to fetch him. It was a room where he could leave the rest of the world at the door, if only for a few hours. It was here that Shakespeare and Pablo Neruda had taught him how to show his heart to Mary, where other authors had given him ideas on how to convey emotion in his roles, where he could get over another failed audition or rejection letter by reading a favourite story.

There was something comforting about being here now, removed from the family and guests. He could deny the reality that life would go on without Violet from now on. He could sit here and rest until he was ready to face the world again.

He frowned and turned his head. The smell of aloe vera floated on the air, a scent that was entirely out of place here.

"You're supposed to be in bed," he called out.

"I woke up early for Emily's next feeding," Sybil replied, coming around to the front of his chair and standing before him. "What's your excuse?"

He got up and finished his whiskey. "Couldn't sleep."

He went over to the bar and put his empty glass on the counter. "Water? Orange juice?"

"No, I'm good," she replied.

He turned around and came back to her. "How are you feeling?"

"Absolutely exhausted, but that's normal. I think we'll be out of the zombie phase in another week, or so. She's taking the bottle really well, and Tom isn't making a complete mess of everything, so that's made it a bit easier for me," she shrugged. "All I have to do is pump."

He cringed. "Darling, honestly, I'm glad things are going well, but I really don't need the details."

She laughed. "Come now. You've seen me nursing."

He groaned and rubbed his temples. "Yes, but you were completely covered. Hearing that pump going just...well, let's just not talk about it."

"If it was anyone else I would say you're being incredibly misogynistic, but in your case, it's actually rather cute how you get embarrassed thinking about me breastfeeding," she smiled.

"Sybil!" he hissed, glaring at her.

She giggled and rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine."

"I should have expected that having a baby would only destroy what little filter you still had left," he grumbled. "You're doing all right, though? Honestly?"

"Yes, I'm fine, darling. It isn't as though I wasn't used to lack of sleep before," she replied.

He nodded. "Good."

"How are you?" she asked in return.

"Fine. As well as can be expected, given all that's happened," he answered. "Mother held up better today than I thought she would. I still worry about how she'll be when we leave for Los Angeles."

"The same was she is whenever you've left before. She'll be wistful for about an hour, and after that, she'll be over it. By the time you call her to tell her you've landed, she'll be chipper once more," she declared. "You'll see."

He frowned. "This is different. Before I would just visit and after I left, she could go back to her life. Now, she's lost her companion, her cause that filled her days. What's she going to replace it with?"

"If I know your mother, she won't be down for long. Planning that trip will occupy some of her time. Mum's already dreading what she might have in store for her and Dad over in Asia," she giggled.

He sighed. "I suppose."

"How are you really?" she pressed.

He blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean the other thing," she replied. "Your grand plan?"

He scoffed and shook his head. "It's on hold."

"Why?" she frowned in surprise.

He looked at her as though she was speaking another language. "I can't possibly go through with it now. It's too soon. We were just at the funeral this morning, for God's sake."

She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, darling, do you truly think that Granny would take offence?"

"It's not the done thing," he protested. "You know, a century ago, we'd all be dressed in black for six months or longer and it would be forbidden to even think of such a thing."

"A century ago, you'd be off fighting in a war and I'd be a volunteer nurse, or something, probably married to some toff that I couldn't stand and about to have my third child. I don't think we should take our guidance from a bygone era, do you?" she asked.

"I can't even put my mind to it," he shook his head.

She rolled her eyes. "Right. You've completely forgotten about it. I've heard that it's quite easy to forget things that you've only been thinking about every single day for the past ten years. I read about such conditions in med school. It's called 'early onset bullshit' if I remember correctly."

He glared at her. "Don't be cute."

She stared right back at him.

"Fine!" he capitulated, rubbing his face and taking a deep breath. "Of course I want to go ahead with it, but how can I? She's grieving, and this is the last thing she'll want to think about. I hope to surprise her, not shock the hell out of her."

"Are you sure that you're hesitating because Granny's gone, or for some other reason?" she questioned.

"What other reason would there be?" he demanded. "It's just a timing issue, that's all."

"Is it? Or are you getting cold feet?" she retorted.

He blinked. "Cold feet? Why? How? Nothing's changed between us. I was ready last week, and I'm ready now. It's just outside circumstances, that's all."

"You know what I think? I think Granny dying has given us all pause. I know that for me, I'm so glad that Emily was born when she was, and that Granny was able to hold her. I'm even giving serious consideration to Tom's request that our second child be born in another year so they'll be close together in age. I wasn't even sure I wanted to have a second one before, but now, after being reminded of how precious life is, I'm thinking differently."

"That's lovely, darling, but what does that have to do with me?" he asked.

"Maybe your version of taking a moment to reflect includes you wondering about your future. Are you questioning whether Mary really is the one you want to be with? Granny sacrificed her career for her family. I know you admired her for that, and I also know that you don't think Mary would do the same. You probably didn't think that was a problem before. But now, perhaps it is," she suggested.

"It's not," he told her firmly. "I don't have any doubts about Mary. I love her. She loves me. That's it."

"God, really, Matthew?" she frowned. "That's absolute rubbish. Marriage isn't all 'I love you, the rest is just detail'. You can love someone all you like, but marriage is about finding someone who will stand by you, who will put you first sometimes, who will be on your side. I love my sister, but she is a handful. You've done admirably so far, but I wouldn't blame you for wondering if you have a solid foundation to build upon. It's easy now, with the two of you being able to live together in Paris, or wherever she's working, and the demands on your time being easier to control. What happens if your career surpasses hers? Or, what happens if she bounces back the way we all expect her to? Will you be content to be relegated to the background again?"

"Why does everyone think I care about how well my career goes compared to hers? You act as though my ego demands that I need to be more famous than she is, or that I'd resent her for being more successful than me. The truth of it is that I honestly don't care," he grumbled.

"You don't care about how your career goes? I highly doubt that," she answered, unconvinced.

"I care in that I invest myself in it, and I put my absolute best effort into what I'm doing. I don't control whether a project draws a large audience, or not. I do the best I can with the material given to me, and hopefully everyone else does their job and the film is well-received. That's all I can do. I'm happy to be recognized, and nominated, and rewarded for my work, but I don't compare my career to Mary's and I don't judge whether my career is successful or not based on how it's measured against hers," he declared.

"So you'd be fine with being known as 'Mary Crawley's husband' and nothing more, despite how hard you've worked, despite how much success you might find?" she asked.

"I don't care about what I'm known as by complete strangers," he nodded. "I'm known as an Armani model at the moment. How much do you think I care about that?"

She smiled. "That's different. You know that your time as a model is only temporary. Obviously you'd rather be known as a successful actor. I'm saying that having that part of you ignored by the public would be difficult to bear."

"Do you want to know something? When I got the call that I had booked _Shattered_ , that I had won this dream role that I had no business even being up for, I was so happy, I thought I might faint. But you know what? That feeling, that sense that I had gotten my big break, the thing that I'd been fighting for most of my adult life, that joy, as wonderful as it was, didn't even begin to compare to the way I felt when Mary told me she loved me again."

"Oh, come on now," she began.

"Hey! It's true!" he shot back. "I know what it's like to struggle for work. I know what it's like to be in the background, both professionally and personally. I'm not afraid of any of that. My career could plummet tomorrow and I'd be fine. I'd find something else to do. If Mary and I broke up, I'd be fine, too, eventually. But the difference is: I don't want to find out what it would be like to have to live without her."

She smiled. "So you're confident that your plan will succeed?"

"I know what outcome I want, obviously," he whinged.

"But?" she probed.

"But there's many reasons why Mary would want to wait, or even not give me her answer right away, some of which have nothing to do with me. It's daunting going into a situation where there are so many unknown factors. If it was just the two of us, and all she had to think about was whether she loved me enough to spend her life with me, that would be easier, I should hope. There's a lot to consider, though," he acknowledged.

"Which is why I think you secretly want to wait, why you're putting it off tonight," she pointed out.

"No, that's not it. I don't know if she'll be in her right mind to even contemplate anything like this right now. I also don't think it's fair to have her make such a major decision after she's suffered such a horrible loss. For me, though, I don't want to wait. There's a life for us and I want to start on it straight away," he stated firmly.

"If you feel so strongly about it, why don't you grow a pair and have a go, then?"

He looked up in surprise at the new voice, his eyes widening when he saw Mary standing in the doorway. Turning away from her, he glared at Sybil.

"You bloody traitor," he growled.

Sybil smiled sweetly. "It's been so gloomy around here lately, I thought we all could use a bit of excitement."

He huffed and shook his head.

"Good night, darling. Don't lose your head now," Sybil advised, giving him a kiss. She patted his shoulder and walked away, sharing a knowing glance with Mary as they passed each other.

"I was wondering where you'd gone off to," Mary stated, coming into the room and approaching him.

"I thought you'd want some space. It's a time for family now," he mumbled.

"And what are you?" she asked lightly. "Granny loved you like one of her own, you know that. Besides, you were related, in a fashion."

He frowned and nodded.

"You know what's funny?" she asked. "For as long as I can remember, you've been a part of my life. Seeing you here at Downton is so normal, so expected. I have relatives, like Rose and her family, who were never truly comfortable here. Even now, they walk around this place on eggshells, afraid to touch anything, acting as though they were transported back to the 19th century, or something. But ever since we were children, you fit right in here."

He smiled in remembrance. "I never was intimidated by this place. It's your home, and whenever I came here, I got to see you, your sisters, your family. It was always fun to come here. Whenever Dad told me we were coming for a visit, I started bouncing off the walls."

She smiled, stepping closer to him. "I understand that you had plans for me tonight."

He grunted and looked away. "Your sister has a big mouth."

"She's got a big heart," she corrected him. "The bigger question is whether you still intend to follow through?"

He looked at her cautiously. "It seems in rather poor taste to think of it, given what's happened."

"Some may think so," she agreed. "But there will always be something, won't there? If we allow someone else's rules and conventions to determine how we are to act, we'll be running around in circles for ages. Live in the moment? Isn't that what we said we would do?"

He shrugged. "I think we owe it to your Granny to not necessarily think of ourselves right now."

She smiled. "You believe we owe a duty to her?"

He nodded.

"And you're a creature of duty," she stated.

He quirked his eyebrows. "Not always."

"Well, what about this supposed plan of yours? Is that a duty? Are you doing what's expected since we've been together for so long and my sisters are all settled? Are you conforming to the fitness of things?" she asked.

He gave her a wry frown. "You already know none of that's true."

She lowered her eyes and smiled knowingly.

"Why are you so interested?" he pressed. "You're the one who isn't even thinking about marriage."

She looked up at him and arched her eyebrow. "Is that what we're talking about?"

He held her stare, his blue eyes seeming to glow. The lights in the library were dimmed, and the moonlight streaming in through the windows surrounded them.

"Maybe I haven't thought about it because I like where my life is right now and don't want it to change?" she suggested.

"Or maybe you've been sufficiently terrified by recent changes in your life, and so you're trying to avoid another?" he retorted.

She pursed her lips before answering. "Maybe I'm afraid that I'll ruin everything. My ambition, and my selfishness, and my greed, it'll all eventually wear on you to the point that you won't want to put up with me anymore. You'll forget why you bothered in the first place. Maybe I'd rather that you come to your senses now before we get so deep into each other that it'll be horribly messy for you to get out?"

He smirked. "Too late."

She swallowed, her brow creasing with worry. "Maybe I'm not really as nice as you think I am. Maybe I'm not the woman you believe me to be. Maybe I don't want to wake up one day and see in your eyes the kind of disappointment that I've felt from others. As your girlfriend, failing you wouldn't be as fatal. As your wife, I don't know if I could bear it."

He nodded, keeping his eyes on hers. "You should have more faith."

She smiled ruefully. "Aren't you scared? Marriage is a long business for our sort of people. We'll be forever linked, no matter what happens. We could live 40, 50 years together. How can you be so sure that I'm the one for you, faults and all?"

He reached out his hand, palm up.

She placed her hand in his, their fingers clasping each other.

"Mary, I proposed to you once before. The circumstances were so very different. We were different. The timing was all wrong, and I used to think that we would have grown to hate each other. I don't believe that anymore," he said softly.

She blinked.

"Marriage isn't a guarantee of eternal happiness. It isn't a lifetime of one joyous moment after another, either. My parents were the happiest couple I ever knew, and they used to have ridiculous rows over business at the hospital that I never quite understood. Mother had a study of her own, a room that she would go to whenever Dad incensed her so much that she couldn't bear to look at him. It was agreed that if she ever went in there, he wasn't allowed to follow, or talk to her until she came back out. I remember she slept in there one night when I was little and when she came out in the morning, he was lying in the hallway outside the door," he smiled.

She laughed incredulously.

"We would have made it work back then, darling. I know we would have," he declared. "That's how I know that this is right. That's how I know that you are right. We've been through so much since then, and while I believe I grew a great deal when I was on my own, not having you with me to share it all with made it seem so small. No matter how bleak our present may be, or how glorious our future may seem, the life that I want, for better or for worse, is one with you in it. I can't even picture one without you."

She couldn't stop herself from grinning. "If that's how you feel, then you shouldn't hold back from going after what you want."

"So will you?" he asked, a dumb smile of his own lighting up his face.

Her breath caught. "You must say it properly. I won't answer unless you kneel down and everything."

He chuckled and nodded. "Of course. How forgetful of me."

He went down on one knee, taking both of her hands in his.

Her heart threatened to burst from her chest.

"Lady Mary Crawley, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?" he asked.

"Yes!" she nodded eagerly, the tears falling from her eyes. She had cried more in the past three days than she had all year, it seemed, but for once, she didn't mind.

He removed a small red box from his pocket and opened it.

Her right hand flew to cover her mouth when she saw the gorgeous gold eternity ring with diamonds all around the band. A sparkling cushion cut diamond solitaire was set above it. She sobbed as he took her left hand and placed the ring on her finger.

She wasn't quite sure what happened next, but suddenly she was in his arms and he was twirling her about, her laughter echoing to the ceiling. He finally set her down and seized her mouth in a firm kiss, her arms pulling him closer, all of the stress and despair she had carried since Granny passed on faded away.

"I must insist that you take my last name, though," he joked.

She laughed and nodded. "Very well. If I must. Marriage is about compromise."

He kissed her again, and once more before letting her hold up her hand and take a closer look at her new engagement ring.

"Darling, it's absolutely beautiful," she marvelled at it.

"You benefitted from my career improving over the past few years. I can afford a far better ring now," he noted.

She giggled. "How lucky for me."

He snorted dismissively, unable to stop smiling. Neither could she.

"Can we come in now? We've been waiting out here for ages!" Sybil called from the hallway.

Mary rolled her eyes and smiled at her new fiancé.

"Come on in," he called.

Sybil, Tom, Edith, Bertie, Anna and Alex came into the room, the ladies flocking to Mary with hugs and kisses, gathering around to admire her ring.

"I owe Bertie five quid," Alex joked, slapping hands and tapping fists with Matthew. "I really thought you were going to bail and put it off until later."

Bertie laughed and shook Matthew's hand in congratulations.

"I almost did," Matthew replied, sharing a knowing smile with Tom. "Sybil left me with no choice but to go through with it, really."

"She does that, yeah," Tom agreed, hugging his soon-to-be brother-in-law. "She can be terribly impatient."

"I heard that," Sybil complained, nudging her way into the circle. "And you're welcome."

Matthew shook his head in consternation before hugging her tight. "You're bloody insufferable, you know that?"

"Insufferably lovable, yes," she replied easily. She turned her head and kissed him warmly. "And I was just looking out for my dear sister. Who knows how famous you're going to be after the Golden Globes? I had to make sure she got her hooks into you now before you start dazzling all of Hollywood."

"Not annoying at all," he remarked sarcastically before releasing her and accepting congratulations from Edith and Anna.

"And so falls the last of the single ladies," Edith teased, sharing a smile with the other wives in the group. "Now we can get back at her for all the hell she put us through for our weddings."

"Careful, Edith. I haven't picked out what colour bridesmaid dress you're going to wear yet," Mary warned. "Green is a good colour for you, isn't it?"

Edith huffed, not at all surprised.

Bertie put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek.

"Let's all head up," Matthew urged. "We'll tell our parents and everyone else in the morning."

"Rubbish! We have to have a toast at least!" Sybil protested. "Hon, can you and Bertie get the champagne?"

"On it," Tom acknowledged, going to get the champagne from the bar while Bertie took care of the glasses.

Matthew sighed in resignation.

"Just enjoy it," Alex recommended, hugging Anna from behind.

Bertie passed out the flutes and Tom popped the cork on a very expensive bottle of Bollinger. He filled everyone's glasses before returning to Sybil's side.

"To Mary and Matthew," Sybil announced, holding her glass up. "About fucking time!"

They all laughed and raised their glasses before sipping the champagne.

"You were right," Mary smiled at Matthew, her voice soft so only he could hear.

"About what, pray?" he asked.

"I can't picture my life without you, either," she grinned.

He kissed her, tasting the sweet champagne on her tongue as everyone cheered and applauded.

 **fin**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Many thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed or favourited this story. The sequel to _Six Months of Summer_ dealt with some darker and more difficult themes, and I appreciate that it may have been hard for some to get through at times. Many of the parts of the story are modern AU versions of events from canon, or spins on real-life situations, which was by design to give some realism to the story even where it seemed shocking. While certainly some characters may not have behaved exactly as expected at first, hopefully it was apparent by the end what everyone's motivation was, and how they came to do what they did.

Much like Series 2, this story ends with the happy note of Mary and Matthew finally engaged and heading into the future together. Their saga will conclude with the final story in the trilogy – _Golden Ashes_ , which is now up. Thank you in advance to those who choose to come along for the last leg of the journey.


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